Clara's Heart
by Friscogirl
Summary: Heyes and Curry meet up with two women who can change their lives; one with a heart cold as ice, the other with a heart warm as the sun.


Clara's Heart

Hannibal Heyes didn't like the feel of Denton from the start. Not that the town itself was all that different from the dozens they'd encountered scattered across the Wyoming foothills and prairies. In fact, it was better than most. A half dozen streets, fresh paint on some of the buildings, a few oak trees clinging grimly to life amid the dry swirls of dust, boardwalks up along the main street. There was the requisite church and the town meeting hall, a cluster of saloons, hotels offering cheap weekly rates, a dry goods store and livery. And naturally, the jail. Heyes always noted where the jailhouse was first thing after entering a strange town. It was a practical piece of information to tuck away in his memory, for he never knew when he might have to leave town in a hurry, and it certainly wouldn't do to try to leave unobtrusively by galloping right past the town sheriff.

Hannibal Heyes was a cautious man, and didn't like it one bit when a town like Denton make his skin crawl in an uncomfortable way. Maybe it was the way nobody smiled back when he nodded at the strangers passing on the road. Maybe it was because the town was so quiet, even at late afternoon. Or maybe it was because the second things Heyes saw after entering town were wanted posters for Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry posted prominently on the notice board outside the bank. Hannibal Heyes just knew he wasn't going to like Denton at all.

"I got a bad feeling about this town," he said softly to the Kid as they dismounted stiffly in front of the Central Hotel.

Kid Curry tied his horse's reins around the hitch rack and rolled his eyes by way of an answer. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked with a yawn. "You don't want a nice soft bed, a thick steak, maybe even a hot bath? You'd rather we ride on through and camp in some ravine and eat hardtack and cold biscuits?"

Sometimes, Heyes mused, the Kid appreciated what he'd come to call his second sense about dangerous places. Obviously today he was having no truck with it. "Forget it," Heyes shrugged, and pulled his jacket up around his neck to ward off the October chill. Maybe his uneasiness _was_ just his imagination, that, and being more tired than he could remember being in a long time. Both he and the Kid were beat. They'd been riding for weeks looking for work, without much success. Their money was about at an end, and Denton offered at least the chance of a friendly poker game where they might recoup some of their pocket money. And it looked like a storm was coming on. Dark clouds were forming up over the weak afternoon sun and the air smelled like incoming rain. Reasons enough for shrugging off the hairs prickling at the back of his neck which were urging him to mount up and ride on out.

"Nine months," the Kid sighed as they headed up to their room after signing the guest register quite improperly as "Joshua Smith" and "Thaddeus Jones". Kid threw his saddlebags roughly onto the bed. "Feels like nine years."

Heyes nodded, for once without repartee. Nine months courting an elusive amnesty, thirty-six weeks clearing their names from false charges and glory hounds, two hundred seventy days with too many brushes with posses and bounty hunters hungering after the twenty-thousand dollar reward which was still posted for them. Stay out of trouble for a year, their friend Sheriff Lom Trevors had said. Then maybe the Governor would clear their records and give them that clean start that they wanted. But was it worth all the running and hiding, the desperate scrounging for money when it was sitting in bank vaults just waiting for them to remove?

Heyes set his jaw and watched as Kid fumbled with the lock of the hotel room door. Yes, he decided, it was worth it. It was just a matter of taking it day by day, and not letting little towns like Denton crawl under your skin when you're tired. Heyes threw himself down on the bed with relief, and tossed his hat playfully at the Kid. "First, a drink," he said.

"Then a steak," Kid said with a smile.

Heyes nodded. "We can look for work in the morning."

Across town, in a stately residence ringed by shade trees and well-manicured gardens, Jenny Dugan stood looking down at the sleeping form of her fiancé, Ned Thurlow, and mused about fate and the best-laid plans of men. The poison should have worked by now, but instead Jake Thurlow, Ned's father, had brought in a smart doctor from the East who had just assured Jenny that everything was going to work out just fine. Jenny tapped her foot impatiently, kicking at the expensive silk of her dress. _Fine_ wasn't what she had in mind at all.

Jenny was not beautiful, but she used to best advantage what she had. She was small-boned and porcelain pale, with tiny slender fingers and a delicate chin that she could tilt with a disarming helplessness that made her much sought-after company among men. Her green eyes could flash fire or melt in fathomless pools, which pulled men in as if to the vortex of a tornado, discovering only then that there was a biting intelligence beneath the pretty features, and a cleverness that wasn't always kind.

Ned Thurlow had begun to see the more calculating side of his bride-to-be. Only the last week he'd suggested that perhaps the marriage should wait, as if finally starting to realize that Jenny's interest was far more in his bank account than in himself. _The courtship had been so fast,_ he said to her, _and wouldn't it we wise to let cool for a while the passion which had swept them off their feet? _ But cooling off wasn't at all according to Jenny's plan. It was she who had wooed Ned Thurlow, the son of the richest man not only in Denton but also in the surrounding valley. She intended to walk down the aisle to him, seal the knot, and then arrange for a tragic accident so she could take Ned's money and marry the man she thought she really loved, Ward Beckridge, who had been waiting patiently for her all this time at the Central Hotel. Jenny had spent interminable weeks putting up with Ned Thurlow's boorish conversation, bad cigars and disgusting attempts at sexual intimacy. And now Ned was talking about cancelling the marriage. The poison had been Jenny's idea, the only way she could assure herself she would get what she intended. And now it looked like that was all for nothing as well.

Jenny stood up and stared at her sleeping fiancée and logically thought the matter through. The doctor had just told her Ned would recover. If he did so, there might well be no marriage, and no inheritance. Therefore, Ned Thurlow could not recover. The doctor had left without speaking to Ned's father, who she'd persuaded to attend his regular Wednesday night poker game at Denton's Cattleman's Association. So, except for the doctor, who would know that Ned hadn't taken a tragic turn for the worse? And how to make sure the doctor kept quiet? Jenny drummed her fingers thoughtfully on the bed stand, listening to the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock and the rhythmical breathing of Ned Thurlow's sleeping form.

Suddenly it all came to her, and her eyes flashed. Not only could she end up with Ned's money after all, if her plan worked like Jenny thought it would, and if Jenny knew Jake Thurlow's temper like she knew she did, the doctor would never have the chance to throw out his own accusations.

With frigid purpose, Jenny picked up a down pillow and lowered it carefully over Ned's face. Even if the poison hadn't worked, this was bound to. Yes, it was going to work out just fine.

An hour later she knocked quietly on the door of a room on the second floor of the Central Hotel. The door opened a crack, and then was flung wide, and she found herself in Ward Beckridge's arms.

"It's done," she informed him, surprised to discover that now that it was, in fact over and done with, her hands were shaking and she was badly in need of a drink.

Ward poured her one from the decanter at his bedside, and they sat down together at a small table by the window. "Then, the poison finally worked," Ward murmured. "Thank God."

Jenny took a gulp from her glass and shook her head. "I had to smother him. The doctor said he was going to recover. Obviously we couldn't allow that to happen."

She continued sipping at her whiskey, ignoring Ward's agitation as he leapt to his feet and began pacing around the room.

"Won't the doctor tell? Won't he know? My God, Jenny, you'll be found out!"

Jenny shook her head patiently, put down her drink, and reached into her handbag. Carefully, she laid out the stacks of neatly bound bills, and unfolded a pile of certificates out on the table. Ward stopped in mid stride, and sat down heavily across from her.

"What's this?" he asked. "Jenny, what have you done?"

Jenny ignored him, and began counting the bills, pleased that the amount was all she'd hoped for. "It's what we wanted from the beginning, Darling. Enough money to let us do what we please. I decided it was silly to wait for several more weeks for something that was sitting in the safe just waiting for me to take."

"My God, Jenny." Ward poured himself another drink. "This isn't what we talked about. There's no way we'll get away with this."

Jenny's eyes probed him in surprise. Ward wasn't reacting at all like she'd anticipated. "There's really nothing to worry about, Darling. As far as Jake knows, the doctor was the last one to be with Ned. I made it look as though he took advantage of the situation. And I'll be sure to point a finger in his direction. I'll suggest incompetency and panic. When things settle down after poor Ned's funeral, the grieving fiancée will return East to seek solace with her relatives, and we'll continue as before."

Ward poured himself still another drink. "You're making a lot of suppositions, Jenny. We should get out of here as quickly as possible. Before the doctor has time to figure out what really happened."

Jenny ignored him and walked over to the window. Ward would come to see it her way. He always did. She pulled aside the curtain and looked out onto the street. She really hated this town. It would be wonderful to leave it behind her. Below her, Denton was closing up for the night. She could see Sheriff Randall beginning his security rounds, and a farmer was harnessing his horse and wagon for a late trip back to his home. Suddenly her eyes narrowed as she spotted two men walking towards the hotel from the saloon. She'd seen the dark-harried one before, a long time ago. But where? He passed beneath a lighted window, and his features became clearer.

Jenny drew a startled breath.

"There may be a delay in our plans," she said softly, watching as the two men towards her and disappeared into the entrance of the hotel below her window.

Ward turned to her in surprise. "Delay? Don't be crazy!"

"Would you call twenty-thousand dollars crazy?" she asked, annoyed as Ward's mouth dropped open with a silly look of a dimwitted school boy. "First thing in the morning you're going to have to telegraph my brother. Tell him to come here immediately." Jenny hurriedly wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and started for the door. It was time to return to her _beloved's_ bedside.

Jake barred her way. "But why? Jenny, what's happened?"

"I don't want you to tell my brother in the telegram, because I don't want to tip off the telegraph operator. But I just saw the two men who held up a train three years ago and rode off with all of my family's savings. They wiped us out, those two, and Henry has been obsessed, you might say, with setting things to right."

"How could they be worth twenty-thousand dollars? That's a fortune!"

Jenny paused at the door, and when she turned back to him her eyes were flashing in excitement. "Because, Darling, their names are Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry."

Ward sank back down on the chair, shaking his head in disbelief. "No, Jenny. This is going too far. Please." He looked at her imploringly, but Jenny was already thinking of how to fit all the pieces together so that Henry got his revenge, and she kept the reward as well as the money from Jake's safe.

"I've got to hurry back. It wouldn't do for me not to be asleep in my bed when Ned's father returns." She turned the door handle, but was stopped by Ward's voice.

"I don't want any part of this, Jenny. Only a fool would go up against Heyes and Curry. Why don't you just tell the sheriff and collect the reward?"

"Because Henry would never forgive me. We take care of ourselves, Henry and I. It's been that way ever since we had to start all over with nothing but the clothes on our backs. I won't deny Henry his sweet revenge."

Ward came across the room slowly and put his hands on her shoulders. "Think, Jenny! We've already got a small fortune. You say we can leave town with no suspicions. Let's do that. Let's not risk what you've worked so hard to get on the chance that Henry will get here on time to take on those two outlaws."

"You don't understand, Ward," Jenny said with a voice turned cold. "This is something I have to do. I _want_ to do."

Ward's hands dropped to his side. "Then my feelings don't matter in this?"

"No, Ward. I'm afraid they don't. I've been waiting three years for this."

"Please, Jenny, I'm begging you…."

Jenny cut him off before he could finish. "I don't like men who beg, Ward. Surely you've learned that by now."

Ward sighed. "I guess I should have learned that before tonight. I'll be leaving town tomorrow. It seems you have no place for me in your grand plan. Oh, don't worry, I'll send that telegram for you. As one last token of my undying devotion." He smiled sadly. "I won't say it hasn't been fun, Jenny. You're always fun. But only when you want to be."

Jenny's eyes flickered with doubt for an instant, and then cleared. She kissed Ward on the cheek and hurried from the room, her mind already set on the next day. There was much to be done.

On their way down to breakfast, a very excited desk clerk greeted Heyes and Curry. "Did you fellas hear the news?"

Heyes rubbed his eyes sleepily and glanced up at the lobby clock. It was eleven o'clock. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so late. "Can't say as we have." He looked at the Kid with a raised eyebrow, and the Kid shrugged.

"Ned Thurlow died last night." The clerk lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Under very suspicious circumstances."

"You don't say," Curry replied, feigning shock to please the clerk. "But who is, uh, _was_ Ned Thurlow?"

"Only the son of the richest man in Denton. Jake Thurlow. Owns the town bank."

"You don't say," Heyes murmured. "As if bankers don't have enough trouble these days." Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the Kid shoot him a dirty look. "Can we still get breakfast?" he asked the clerk. "Or has the kitchen closed down because of all the excitement."

"Oh for sure, for sure," the clerk said hastily, oblivious to Heyes' sarcasm. "Go right on in. I'll tell Mary to scramble you up some eggs." As he hurried off he called back over his shoulder. "But I can tell you, knowing old man Thurlow's temper, things aren't going to be normal around here for long."

Heyes eyed the Kid warily as they sat down at a table. "I told you…"

"Yeah, I know," Curry interrupted. "You have a bad feeling about this place." He looked carefully around the deserted dining room, empty except for one rather morose looking man seated alone in the corner. The man seemed to stare back awfully intently as the Kid's eyes passed over him, and Curry frowned. "Maybe we _should_ move on. Don't know what chance we'll have to find work anyway, if the town's in an uproar."

Mary came over from the kitchen and plunked down two heaping plates of eggs and toast, along with a plate of bacon. Kid eagerly lifted his fork to dive in.

"Have you heard what happened last night?" she asked as she poured them coffee. "They're saying a doctor killed Jake Thurlow's son. Imagine that! A doctor! Whose job it is to save peoples' live, up and taking one."

"Scandalous," Heyes agreed, and turned to the Kid as Mary went to refill the other diner's cup. "Let's leave before noon."

On the way to the livery to check on their horses, they met Jenny. Or better said, she met them. Full tilt under a mound of boxes and paper bags, coming out of the mercantile store. The three of them scrambled apologetically on the ground for the dumped parcels. Her eyes found Kid's, and Heyes could see that for the Kid it was love at first collision. Heyes sighed, envying for the umpteenth time the Kid's blue eyes and wavy blonde hair that seemed to get them every time.

"I'm terribly sorry," the Kid said with a polite tip of his hat and gave her his winning toothy smile. "Would you let me help you with these? It's an awfully heavy load for just you to handle."

Her pale cheeks colored delicately, and Heyes decided that although she wasn't the flashy type, she was certainly a pretty girl. Curls over her ears, her long brown hair tied up under a bonnet like a proper girl would do. Long brown lashes and green eyes. Irish.

"Thank you," she stammered.

"Our pleasure, Miss…?" the Kid said.

"Dugan. Jenny Dugan."

Bingo, thought Heyes, and also tipped his hat to her. "My name is Joshua Smith. And my cousin here is…"

"Thaddeus," the Kid interrupted smoothly. "Thaddeus Jones." He cast him a look, and Heyes mentally backed off. It was their policy to never get in each other's way in these matters. When two people were with each other constantly like he and the Kid, it became important to set rules and obey them. The one thing neither of them needed in their lives was any more tension.

The Kid scooped up a long black dress that had slipped out of one of the boxes, and helped Jenny fold it back in place. "Thank you," she said again. "I have to wear this dress tomorrow. I'd hate for it to get soiled."

"I'm sorry," the Kid said softly. "I didn't realize…" He searched her left hand but saw no wedding ring. Jenny followed his gaze.

"My fiancé died last night," she explained. "It was very unexpected."

"Your fiancé was the banker's son?" the Kid asked in surprise, hastily adding again how sorry he was.

Jenny nodded, and her eyes glistened with tears. "We were to have been married just next week. Until…" She took a shaky breath. "But now I'll be wearing mourning clothes instead of my bridal dress."

"How did your fiancé die, if you don't mind my asking?" asked Heyes politely. "There are all sorts of stories going around town."

Jenny turned to him. "We don't know exactly, Mr….Smith. He took on a terrible fever last week, and then awful stomach cramps. Ned's father finally called in a new doctor who had just come to Denton from back east, hoping he might have some new medicines that could cure him. Ned seemed to be getting better until the doctor's last visit. Then…." She paused to dab at the tears in her eyes. "Well, it all happened very suddenly. The maid found Ned not breathing this morning, and now we can't find the doctor, and Jake…Ned's father…is trying to find him all by himself and I keep telling him to hire on some men to help out and…" She seemed to run out of words, and fumbled distractedly at her packages. "It's all happening too fast for me, I'm afraid."

Another bag slipped from her hand, and the Kid stooped to pick it up. "Here," he said, taking the packages from her. "Why don't you let me walk these home for you? It's too much for a lady like yourself to be carrying alone." He threw Heyes another look, and Heyes sighed inwardly. It looked like they weren't going to be leaving Denton today after all.

They were interrupted by a loud crash from inside the mercantile, followed by a cry of dismay in a woman's voice. Heyes saw his out, and took it. "Why don't you two go on ahead," he suggested. "I'll look to the trouble inside." He tipped his hat to Jenny, acknowledged the Kid's grateful look with a wink, and watched for a moment as the two of them walked off down the street. The Kid looked rather silly, Heyes thought, with his six-gun around his waist and his arms piled with dainty packages. Then he saw Jenny loop her hand around the Kid's arm, and he shook his head ruefully. The Kid wasn't wasting any time. Or…another thought struck him and he frowned slightly…or Jenny wasn't.

He wandered into the mercantile, and at first couldn't locate the source of the outcry. Then he heard some scrapes and scratches from behind the big front counter, and peered over it to see a middle-aged woman down on her hands and knees picking up the pieces of what looked to be a broken water pitcher. Heyes edged around the counter to help, noticing as he did so the stacks of unopened crates and the half-loaded shelves. The woman looked up at him gratefully, and a smile eased her worried look.

"Thank you for your trouble," she said as Heyes helped her to her feet. She dumped the shards into a garbage pail. "I was trying to put things up on the shelf there," she nodded up at the empty cabinet behind the counter, and I lost my footing. Guess I was lucky just the water pitcher broke, and not my old bones!"

She laughed a good, solid chuckle, and Heyes liked her instantly. She was short, a good foot smaller than he, with a figure more plump than fat. Her white hair was pulled neatly in a bun at the nape of her neck, and a flowery yellow scarf brightened her simple gray skirt and white blouse. Her blue eyes were alive with laughter, and her lips were smiling openly now at Heyes.

"Looks to me like you've got quite a few years ahead of you before you can start calling yourself old," Heyes said politely, and she laughed again in reply.

"Dear me!" she exclaimed. "It's been a long while since I received such a nice compliment from such a young man! I won't believe a word of it, mind you, but I'll accept what you say with delight."

Heyes glanced back up at the empty shelves. "That's kind of a rickety job for you to be doing, isn't it? Can' t your husband help you with the climbing chores?"

A touch of sadness washed over her face, but was gone in an instant. "Claude is no longer with me," she said softly. "He died last month. Lung fever. We'd come out here so his health could improve. Philadelphia was too damp for him. We saw an advertisement from Denton looking to attract new business, but Claude died before the stock arrived. So now it's up to me, I suppose."

"You could go back East," Heyes suggested. "Relatives, friends…"

Her eyes snapped with purpose. "Claude wanted to make a go of it here in Denton. And that's what I want now, too. It gives some purpose to my time." She brushed off her hands and startled Heyes by extending her right hand to him. "I'm Clara Hodges."

Heyes shook her hand and grinned. "And I'm Joshua Smith."

"I haven't seen you in town before. I don't suppose you're looking for work are you, Mr. Smith?" she asked. Then she spotted his gun belt, and shook her head. "No, I suppose not," she answered herself. "At least, not the kind of work I'm offering."

Heyes followed her gaze, and sighed. He looked carefully around the small store, and his lips pulled into a crooked smile. He'd done a lot of odd jobs since he and the Kid started working on their amnesty, but so far, he'd never clerked. He didn't guess it would hurt him any, though the Kid might chuckle some. The Kid clearly wanted to get to know Jenny better, and it didn't look like there would be much else to do in Denton. Pocket money could come in handy.

"Ma'am," Heyes said, and took off his hat politely, "the fact is I _am_ looking for work. I just don't know how long I'll be in town."

Clara looked startled. "But I can only offer ten dollars a week!"

Heyes suppressed a grin. He could make that in one minute at the poker table. He knew he would be crazy to accept her offer. But he wasn't doing it for the money. Not this time, anyway. He was doing it because Clara Hodges needed help, and she was a very nice lady.

"That sounds fine," he said.

Clara smiled timidly. "Do you have a head for figures? Have you ever handled money?"

Heyes' grin widened. "Yes ma'am! On both counts."

Clara looked relieved. "Why, that's wonderful! It was pure fate that brought you into this mercantile, Mr. Smith. I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on you. Frankly, I don't know how I could have managed much longer if I hadn't found somebody like you to lend a hand. Can you begin right away?"

Heyes put his hat down on the counter. "I'm all yours," he said. "And please, call me Joshua."

Clara smiled and put his hat on the coat rack near the back door. "Then you must call me Clara. And if you don't mind…" Heyes followed her worried glance down to his gun. He hesitated for a moment, then unbuckled his gun belt and hung it on the rack next to his hat. He didn't figure he'd have much use for it working in a store. Clara looked relieved, and he smiled at her as he took off his jacket and began pushing up his shirtsleeves.

"The pay's not much, I know," Clara said as she handed him an inventory list. "But I make darned good lemonade."

Heyes chuckled, and got down to work.

Jake Thurlow may have been in mourning, but there was still a lot of fight in him. He nearly tore the Kid's hand off when they shook hands after Jenny introduced them in the parlor.

"I appreciate your helping out Jenny," he said in a gravelly voice. "My mind's been rather rattled this morning, or I would never have let her go off alone the way that she did."

Kid had a hard time imagining Thurlow to be anything other than the stolid, self-assured man standing before him. He was of medium build with gray-speckled hair and piercing black eyes, and despite years spent working inside a bank, he hadn't gone to flab. Curry reckoned Thurlow could still account for himself if called upon.

"No problem," the Kid said with a smile to Jenny, who had sat down on the couch and was patting her hair back in place. She returned his smile briefly, then her eyes flickered over to Thurlow's, and she dropped her gaze more demurely to her lap.

"Jenny says you might be looking for men to help you find the missing doctor," Curry continued, and both Thurlow and Jenny looked at him with intense interest.

"That's so," Thurlow said slowly, looking Curry over as carefully as he would a crisp dollar bill. His gaze lingered on the tied down holster, and he gave a soft grunt of approval. "I don't understand why that doctor lit off the way he did," he added. "I wired his office in Oak Springs, but was informed he hadn't returned yet. I can't imagine where he is, why he left so abruptly, and why he failed to inform me of Ned's…." His voice wavered slightly. "Ned's turn for the worse," he finished.

The door to the study opened after a soft knock, and a man wearing a sheriff's badge strode purposefully into the room. "I may have an answer to that puzzle, Jake," the sheriff said.

Curry scratched his chin to hide his nervousness. Sheriff's badges always made him want to run, and although this man didn't look at all familiar, he had to fight back every instinct in order to stand there, hat in hand, and keep playing the role of polite visitor. No way would the sheriff recognize him, he assured himself. He obviously had other things on his mind, especially the temper of the town's most important citizen. But he did throw the Kid a curious look as he came across the room.

"Sheriff Mort Riverton, Thaddeus Jones," Thurlow said by way of quick introduction. The two men nodded. "Mr. Jones here helped Jenny bring some packages home and he's offering his assistance should we need it." Curry felt Riverton's eyes drop to his gun. "Now, what is it you've found out? What riddle?"

"Your safe's been cleaned out, Jake," Riverton said solemnly. "Your housemaid mentioned to me that she'd found the door to the study wide open this morning, which wasn't usual. So I took a look. It looks like your doctor couldn't resist temptation. Him being alone with your son, Jenny in her room resting, no one else about, and that safe just sitting there."

Jenny straightened up on the couch. "You know, now maybe I know why the doctor seemed to be acting unsettled before I retired for the evening. He was commenting about how nice it was for me to be marrying into a rich banking family, with all that money and security, and how doctors could barely make enough to go by on, since most of their patients never paid their debts." Jenny stood up and came over to take Jake's hand in hers. "I couldn't believe Ned wasn't getting better, Mr. Thurlow. The doctor seemed very anxious that I lie down and rest. I wonder if the doctor got Ned to give him the combination while he was delirious."

Thurlow embraced her gently. "Looks like your female intuition was right on the money," he said. "I would have been so happy to have had you as my daughter-in-law. A bright mind like yours."

Curry wondered why the doctor would be so stupid to rob a safe when everyone knew he was alone in the house, but refrained from saying anything. Men do rash things when they're desperate. And maybe the doctor was in desperate need of money.

Thurlow turned to the sheriff. "So what now, Sheriff? We're standing around talking while the man is getting away."

"I'm form a posse immediately," Riverton replied, and put his hat firmly back on his head. He turned briefly to Curry. "Mr. Curry, would you be interested in signing on? Looks like you're a man who can handle himself. I can't force you to, since you're not a resident of Denton."

The Kid shook his head slowly, suppressing a smile at the thought of him wearing a badge. "No thanks, Sheriff. When I work, I prefer to do it solo."

The sheriff nodded to Thurlow, and headed for the door. Thurlow stopped him as his hand grasped the door handle. "Don't you let him get away from you, Mort," he said angrily. "Shoot the bastard if you have to, but don't you dare come back here and tell me that he got away, or that you couldn't find him."

The sheriff's cheeks flushed and his lips tightened, but he said nothing. He nodded curtly to Jenny and left the room. Thurlow turned back to the Kid, his eyes hard as granite. "Do I understand you would be interested in hiring on _solo_ to find this doctor?" he asked sharply.

"Depends," Kid said easily. "What are you paying?"

"I'll pay you a hundred a day. No questions asked if you have to shoot this killer in, should we say, self-defense. Do we understand each other?"

"Mr. Thurlow," Curry said tightly, "I'll do my damndest to find this doctor of you. But I'll be up front with you. I don't fancy shooting men without real cause. If he wants to come peaceable, that's going to be just fine with me."

Thurlow hesitated, and then stuck out his hand. "Agreed. Just don't let me down."

The Kid nodded and remembered Heyes. "I've got a partner in town," he said. "Do you think…?"

Thurlow nodded abruptly. "Same goes for him. Hundred a day. Start today. The doctor couldn't have gone too far by now. But the way word travels in this part of the territory, he's probably heard I'm looking for him. So he'll be moving fast."

"We will be, too," Curry assured him. He walked over to say goodbye to Jenny, who reached up her hand to him. The Kid took it in his, marveling at how small and delicate she was.

"Thank you for all your help, Mr. Jones," she said softly. "I do hope I'll be seeing you again."

The Kid smiled. "It's Thaddeus. And if that's what you want, Jenny, I don't see how I could possibly deny you.

Her green eyes sparkled promisingly in farewell.

After checking out the saloon and not finding Heyes at one of the poker tables, Kid wander around the street wondering where his partner might have gone to, when he remembered the ruckus in the mercantile. When he entered, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. There was Hannibal Heyes, perched on top of a ladder, carefully placing jars of spices up on a shelf. He had a worker's apron tied around his waist, and he looked like he was going at it with the kind of intensity he usually reserved for dynamiting bank vaults. The Kid looked around to see if anyone else was in the store, but they were alone. He walked over to the ladder and peered up at Heyes with a grin.

"Joshua!" he hissed. "What in the Hell are you up do?"

Heyes jerked back from the shelf in surprise, and almost lost his balance on the ladder. Curry had to grab onto his legs to keep him from falling headfirst to the floor. Once he was steady again, Heyes threw him an indignant look.

"What does it look like I'm up to?" he said acidly. "I've found me a job." He turned back to the shelf; finished unloading a box of bottles he was carrying in his left arm, and carefully stepped down to the floor. He glared in annoyance at the Kid's glee.

"Well," he snapped. "What's so darned funny?"

"Joshua," Kid chuckled, "if you don't know by now, there's no use in me explaining it to me."

Heyes' lips tugged into a smile. "Well, it seemed to me you wanted to stay on awhile. We need pocket money, and Denton just isn't the liveliest town in the world. Don't think we can rely on poker. So a man takes what he can get. The lady who runs the place needs help, a man with an eye for figures, she said, someone who's worked with money before." His smile widened into a silly grin. "Anyway, why the heck not?"

"Because I got us a better job. A hundred a day."

Heyes' eyes bugged in surprise. "Sounds illegal."

"Nope. Working for a banker. Thurlow. Wants to get that doctor who was treating his son. Thinks he had something to do with his death. Thurlow thinks the doc cleaned out his private safe before he skipped town. Banker Thurlow is out for blood. A hundred a day, starting right now. For both of us." Curry looked smug over having snared such a deal.

Heyes pursed his lips thoughtfully, and looked around the cluttered store. "You go ahead," he said. Curry mouth fell open. "No, no," Heyes stopped him from interrupting. "I'll stick with what I'm doing." He ignored the stunned expression on the Kid's face, and picked up another box of spice bottles. The Kid's hand on his arm stopped him from climbing back up the ladder.

"Have you taken leave of your senses?" Curry sputtered. "How much are you getting paid for this?"

Heyes' chin came up. "Ten dollars a week," he said stoutly. "Honest money."

Kid saw Heyes wasn't to be talked out of his decision. "Sometimes, Joshua, I don't understand you at all."

They both turned as Clara came in from the back room, a tray of lemonade in her hands. Curry took off his hat, and eyed Heyes in puzzlement.

"Well, hello there!" Clara greeted, and put the tray down on the counter. "Can I help you with something? I'm afraid we're not quite open for business."

"This is my friend, Thaddeus Jones," Heyes said by way of introduction. "He was just stopping by to tell me he's found work here, too."

"Wonderful!" Clara exclaimed with a smile. "Then you'll both be staying on for awhile. There's so much to be done here, as you can see. "

"And I better get back to it," Heyes said industriously, and turned to the ladder.

"First, some lemonade," Clara admonished. "You've been working all morning, and it's time for a break." As Heyes put the spice box down, she turned to Curry. "Would you like to join us?"

Curry nodded, somewhat baffled. "Thank you, Ma'am."

"Clara," she corrected, and thrust a glass at him. The Kid felt kind of silly standing there sipping lemonade while Heyes was about to climb up a ladder and turn down a hundred dollars a day. He finished the drink and smiled to himself. But it _was_ awfully good lemonade!

Clara headed to the back room. "I'll bring in some more boxes. At the rate you're going, we'll be unpacked by the end of the week!"

"Joshua," Kid said after she'd gone.

Heyes grinned at him and hoisted the box back up the ladder. "You go on ahead. I can't pass this up. Ten a week, plus the best lemonade in the territory." He lowered his voice as he saw Kid was still annoyed with him. "Kid, look, she needs help. Bad. And she's a nice lady. You want to stay in Denton to maybe make time with Jenny Dugan. Fine! I don't like Denton, but I do like Clara. So let me be."

The Kid watched as the former outlaw leader carefully unpacked more bottles before he turned to go. "You're a softy, Joshua," he called out. "You know that, don't you?"

Heyes didn't turn from his work. "Take care of yourself, Thaddeus. Remember, I won't be there to watch out for you like I usually do."

"Don't walk under any ladders," Kid teased, and stepped out onto the street.

The Kid headed first for Oak Springs. He figured that was as good as place as any to pick up some clues as to where the doctor might have disappeared. Maybe he had relatives, or friends in the area that might hide him out. A stranger in the territory fresh out of the East couldn't have put down too many roots. His trail shouldn't be that hard to follow, once he knew where to start. The Kid only hoped he could stretch out the search long enough to make a little money off of Thurlow.

The doctor's assistant hadn't seen him for nearly a week. She seemed genuinely baffled as to his whereabouts, and the Kid couldn't figure out why a nice-looking fortyish nurse would lie to him, especially after he spun a story about his wife being in labor and how he desperately needed some help.

"Doctor Munroe went to Denton, that's the last I heard from him," she said worriedly. "A man's son was very ill, and the man's father felt the doctor in Denton wasn't well versed enough in modern medicines to render proper assistance. Doctor Munroe doesn't normally work in another colleague's area, but this man was most insistent."

Curry fidgeted with his hat. "We'll, I've heard nothing but the best about Doctor Munroe," he said, "and that's who I want taking care of my Mary."

The nurse smiled back in agreement. "He is a fine doctor. Very dedicated. He gave up a thriving practice in New York just to come out here. He told me he'd read how people in the west were desperately in need of medical care. And he felt the people in New York City, well, he said they were already adequately served. And that it was a doctor's job to go to where he was most needed. So…" She wrung her hands nervously on her apron, and patted the Kid's arm in comfort. "Listen to me ramble on, and you in need of the doctor for your wife. Perhaps you'd best go on to Denton. I'm sure their doctor is well able to deliver babies."

"I'm sure that's so, Ma'am. Mary has already lost one baby. We'd sure hate to lose this one." The nurse's eyes were immediately sympathetic. "Do you know if the doctor has any friends hereabouts? Who maybe live between here and Denton? He could have stopped off for a visit on the way back."

The nurse looked thoughtful. "No, I can't say that he has. And besides, it isn't like the doctor not to let me know if he's going to be later than expected. Why, he wired me only the day before yesterday that his patient was much improved, and that he expected to be back today or tomorrow. I'm certain he would have wired me again if he changed his plans. But instead I received a wire from Mr. Thurlow asking insistently for Doctor Munroe's whereabouts. It's most confusing, especially since the doctor has an operation scheduled for tomorrow, and he would have advised me whether or not to cancel it."

"The doc has a lot of patients here?" Curry asked curiously.

The nurse laughed lightly. "Dear me, yes. Already more than he can handle. I nearly had to force him at gunpoint to go off fishing for a few days last month. I feared if he didn't get some rest, the doctor would become the patient, if you get my meaning."

Curry smiled. "Yes, Ma'am." He glanced over her shoulder into the office, noting the comfortable waiting room and the cabinets sparkling with new equipment. Didn't look like the doctor was hurting for money. Yet Jenny said… The Kid was confused, and he frowned. The nurse saw his expression change, and touched his arm in worry.

"You don't think something has happened to him, do you? That's what you're thinking isn't it? That he's been injured, dying maybe, and that's why he hasn't notified me. That he's…" Her words caught in her throat.

"Whoa there!" Kid interrupted gently. "All I want is a doctor help my wife, remember? I didn't mean to frighten you."

The nurse began wringing her hands again, and smiled tightly. "Of course. I'm terribly sorry. I just don't know what to make of it all."

"Well, Ma'am," the Kid said with a tip of his hat, "I'd best ride on to Denton, like you suggest. I just hope my wife in labor this time as long as she was the last time."

"Would you like for me to go out and sit with her?" the nurse called after him as he walked to the hitching post where his horse was tethered.

"No, thanks," he replied, looking for a reassuring lie. "I've got a midwife with her. I just wanted a real doctor on hand to make sure she'll be all right." He mounted quickly and waved as he nudged his horse into a canter.

"Good luck!" the nurse called after him, and Curry waved back with a feeling of guilt in his stomach. The nurse had been so nice to him, and he'd gotten her all worried over him for nothing.

Jenny dangled the gold chain around her neck, and eyed her reflection longingly in the mirror. It would be so nice to get out of Denton and be able to act like herself again. The black dress she was wearing made her look fifty. But she had to play it through. Henry would be arriving any day now, and until that time she still had to be convincing as the grieving fiancée. She didn't want any suspicion to come her way, now that her plan was going so well. Men were so easy to manipulate, she reflected coolly. Jake was going crazy over the posse's inability to find the missing doctor, and the posse's stupidity was something she was banking on. She hoped Kid Curry would find the doctor and gun him down, despite what he'd told Jake in the parlor. But even if Curry brought the doctor in alive, she knew Jake's temper would never let him stay that way for long.

She was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door, and quickly put the gold chain back into her jewelry box. "Yes?"

"It's Jake, Jenny." The door opened carefully, and Thurlow stepped into the room. He was dressed in a dark suit, and wore a black armband around his right arm to show he was in mourning. Jenny hurried over to embrace him. "You're being very brave through all this," he said, patting her comfortingly on the back. "How I wish you would stay here with me."

Jenny pulled away from him, her eyes glistening with tears. "You're very kind to ask me to stay. But Denton has so many memories of Ned. I don't think I could bear to remain here much longer, seeing his face at every turn. After my brother arrives, I think I'll go home with him. Back to Kansas City."

"I wish you'd reconsider. Even though you're not my daughter-in-law, and now can never be because of that wretched doctor, I'll always think of you as such."

The wall clock chimed, and Jenny looked over at it in relief that the conversation would have to end. "It's almost time for the service," she said, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. "We don't want to be late."

Jake helped her into her shawl, and she put his arm through his as they walked to the door. "I'll stay through the charity ball," she added, "since it meant so much to Ned."

Jake kissed her fondly on the cheek. "Bless you, Jenny. You're a strong, strong woman."

Heyes looked up from the inventory log as the clock struck ten. Clara was unwrapping jars of cologne that had arrived wrapped in hay in a wooden barrel, and seemed oblivious to the hour.

"Almost time for the big funeral," Heyes commented. "Seems like everyone in town is going to it."

Clara looked up with a guilty expression. "Oh, I'm sorry! Did you want to attend?"

Heyes blinked in surprise. "Me? No! I didn't know the man. I thought _you_ might want to."

Clara smiled ruefully. "Heavens, no. I suppose I should put in appearance for the sake of community spirit, but funerals depress the heck out of me. I swore after I laid Claude to rest that his would be the last one I'd ever attend."

Heyes smiled. "I know what you mean. But in the little town I grew up in, you were snubbed if you didn't show up each and every time someone passed away."

"Mercy," Clara replied. "How perfectly dreadful for you. And where did you grow up, may I ask? Are you a local boy?"

"Not exactly. I grew up in Willow Glen, Kansas." Heyes caught himself; he shouldn't be telling too much about himself to a near stranger. But Clara's warm eyes reassured him that she wouldn't connect him to the description on the wanted poster any time soon. "It was a farming town," he continued. "It sort of died down when the railroad spur went through Larchmont and refused to put in a stop in Willow Glen. It's a nice town to be _from_, as they say."

Clara laughed. "Somehow I don't picture you as a farm boy, Joshua."

Heyes grinned, slightly embarrassed. "I haven't been on a farm for some time now. I decided long ago that wasn't the line of business I wanted to go into. Too hard on the back."

"And what line of business _do_ you feel is more suited to your talents?" Clara's eyes were sparkling mischievously, and Heyes enjoyed the banter.

"Well," he said expansively, "for awhile I considered banking. And train work. But those just didn't work out. Now I'm kind of searching, you might say. Looking for something better to come along."

"Like the mercantile business?"

Heyes laughed. "Maybe. You just never know."

Clara shook her head and made a clucking sound. "Somehow I don't think so. There's a bit of a rascal in you I think, Joshua. I predict you will find storekeeping a pretty boring profession."

Heyes walked over and squatted on the floor next to where she was unpacking. "Well, right now I like it just fine," he said softly, and took one of the perfume bottles from her so she would think he didn't notice her pleased blush. Heyes gave it a curious sniff, and his nose wrinkled in disgust. "My God!" he exclaimed, "this smells like something you'd find in a bordello." It was his turn to blush. "Oops, I'm sorry, Clara."

Clara only chuckled. "That's exactly who it's meant for." She laughed aloud at the look of shock that washed over his face. "Claude always prided himself on knowing the needs of his customers. And Joshua, we don't turn any customers away from this mercantile. We want everyone to fell welcome here. Do you understand?"

Heyes grinned. "I understand you're a pretty wonderful lady."

They went back to unpacking. Later that afternoon he was alone in the store when the bell over the door tingled, and he turned to see Jenny Dugan enter. She blinked at him in surprise and came over to the counter, setting a bag down on it with a smile.

"Well, I never expected to see you here," she greeted warmly.

Heyes was a little taken aback by the friendliness of her greeting, since he'd only met her once before. He came slowly down the ladder where he'd been stacking coffee tins, and wiped his hands off on his apron. Jenny was still wearing black from the funeral, but her demeanor was somehow not that of a grieving woman.

"Hello," he said evenly. "Where _did_ you expect to see me?"

"I heard Jake offer both Thaddeus and you well paying work. I naturally assumed you'd accept it. It certainly is better pay than working in a mercantile, especially for a man of your talents."

Heyes was puzzled, then figured Kid might have told her something about other jobs they'd been doing, and let the remark go. "Can I help you with something" he asked, aware of his new role as store clerk.

Jenny smiled again, and began unwrapping the bag she'd carried in. Heyes saw it contained a silk white dress. A wedding dress. Jenny unfolded it carefully on the counter.

"I thought I'd be wearing this on my wedding day. I didn't buy it here, but I was hoping I might exchange it for money now that the situation has….changed."

Heyes eyed her blankly. "Situation?"

Jenny's eyes fluttered pathetically. "My fiancé's death."

"Oh." Heyes inwardly cursed his lapse in thinking. He fingered the dress thoughtfully, noting that it was beautifully made, and probably worth a small fortune. He wondered if Clara had the money to buy it back. To his surprise, Jenny laid her hand on his.

"I do hope you'll do me this huge favor," she said. "To be perfectly honest, I spent more than I should have on it. Now that I'll be returning home in a few days, I frankly need all the money I can gather together."

Heyes suddenly realized he was in over his head, and also wondered why she didn't just turn to Jake Thurlow for help. He was saved when Clara returned from the errand she'd been away on.

"Good afternoon, Miss Dugan," she greeted politely, if somewhat coolly. "I'm so sorry I wasn't able to attend the funeral. But you know you have my deepest sympathies."

"She'd like to see if you'd buy this wedding dress," Heyes said abruptly, sensing an awkwardness between the two women. "Now that she doesn't need it any longer."

Clara looked apprehensive, but gave the dress a brief examination before nodding and going over to the cash register. She handed Jenny more than a few twenty-dollar bills.

"Will this do?"

Jenny took the money with shining eyes. "Thank you so much," she gushed. "It means ever so much to me." She stuffed the bills somewhat indelicately into her handbag, and headed for the door. "Now I must be off. People are dropping by this afternoon and I must get preparations ready for them."

"Humph," Clara sniffed as Jenny left. "I would have thought the wedding dress might have meant something to her as a keepsake." She fingered the dress thoughtfully before resolutely beginning to fold it up.

"Could you really afford that?" asked Heyes gently. "This dress looks really expensive."

"No, I can't," Clara said matter-of-factly. "But it was a reasonable request. I'm sure I'll find another young girl who needs a wedding dress. I might have to lower the price some, but I'll do all right." As she put the dress carefully into a box, Heyes heard her clucking her tongue to herself.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "Don' t you like Jenny?"

Clara eyed him warily. "Oh dear. Was I that obvious?"

"I just sensed something."

"She's a strange one. Hardly been in town long at all when she up and starts dating the richest bachelor in Denton. And at the same time she's got this man with her who stays out of the way, real quiet like at the Central Hotel. Mighty strange to me, seems like."

Heyes straightened some bolts of cloth at the far end of the counter. He was puzzled. "A friend at the hotel? What do you mean?"

Clara shrugged. "It's really none of my business. For all I know he's just a friend. Perhaps a travelling companion. Women shouldn't travel alone, you know." Heyes nodded. "I saw them together when she arrived, but after she started going with Ned, he pulled into the background. I saw him boarding the stagecoach yesterday."

Heyes frowned. "That is peculiar."

"Yes," Clara agreed. "Seems as if he came in with her, he'd go off with her as well." Suddenly she chuckled. "Look at us!" she exclaimed. "Gossiping like small town people with small town minds. There's work to be done, Joshua! So let's get to it!"

Heyes smiled, but as he returned to the storage shelf, his expression was thoughtful.

Heyes was jerked awake by the sound of a footstep, and bolted up off the bed and grabbed for his handgun. He had it cocked and the barrel aimed at the intruder before he made out the features of the Kid in the dull light of their hotel room. Heyes relaxed, and fell back on the mattress.

"You awake now?" Kid asked, and Heyes closed his eyes with a yawn.

"Leave me alone. I want to sleep."

Curry sat down beside him and shook Heyes' shoulder until he turned over and eyed him with a grouchy expression. "We gotta talk," the Kid said. "It's only midnight."

Heyes pulled the blanket up, having none of it. "I'm tired. I've been on my feet working all day. Gotta get up first thing in the morning."

The Kid shook Heyes again in exasperation. "You're beginning to sound like a clerk."

One of Heyes ' eyes opened and glared at the Kid. "That's what I am, Kid," he grumbled. "Get used to it. We made twenty bucks today, Clara and me."

"Heyes!" Kid said impatiently. "Come on. Wake up, will you?"

Heyes sighed and struggled to a sitting position against the bed board. "This better be good," he said. "So tell me. Did you find the doctor? And why are you getting in at such a later hour, for that matter?"

Curry eased out of his boots and wriggled his toes gratefully. He noticed his big toe sticking out of a hole in his sock, and made a mental note to buy himself a pair or two with his new pay. "I'm late because I've been riding all day, looking for anyone who might have seen our mysterious doctor. And I haven't found him. Yet."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" Heyes watched the Kid unbuckle his gun belt it and put it on the bed table, close at hand. "It's a hundred a day, so the more time you take means the more money for us."

"For us?" Kid asked sarcastically. "What are you contributing?"

"My ten dollars, of course!" Heyes said defensively. "So, what's with the doctor? Why couldn't you find him? You're a pretty good tracker, Kid. Though not as good as I was…"

"…when you were the champeen tracker in Utah, I know," Kid interrupted him. He'd heard the story too many times to hear it again when he was dog-tired and dusty and needing a bath which he couldn't get at this hour. Curry explained about the visit with the nurse. "The doctor just doesn't seem like a man so desperate for money that he'd kill a patient and rob a safe like a common thief. And not take care of his other patients. It just doesn't fit the picture I got of him from the nurse, or from some of his former patients I talked with today."

Heyes frowned. "That's a puzzle, all right." He yawned and settled back down on the bed.

"Is that all you're going to contribute?"

"Well, I found out some mighty puzzling information myself today," Heyes said as he fought off sleep. "Such as Jenny may not be all she's pretending to be."

"Oh yeah?" Heyes detected a touch of heat in Curry's voice. "Such as what?"

"A man she came to town with _left_ town right after her fiancé was killed. Doesn't that strike you as strange?"

"I don't know."

"Me neither. But I'm working on it. And I'm also working very early in the morning. So will you let me get back to sleep?"

Curry sighed and pulled off his clothes. As he got into bed he turned to Heyes to add something, but he could see his partner was already fast asleep.

When the Kid walked out onto the street the next morning, the town was in an uproar. A six-man posse had clustered in front of Sheriff Riverton's office, and the combination of jumpy horses, curious schoolboys and the shouting match going on between Thurlow and the sheriff was enough to send him right back to bed. As he walked towards the ruckus, Curry glanced over at the mercantile and saw Heyes and Clara out on the boardwalk looking on, Heyes looking very clerk-like in his tidy apron and rolled up sleeves. Curry waved a greeting and joined Thurlow.

"It's your job to find killers!" he was shouting at the red-faced sheriff. "Two days now this doctor has been fancy free, and you're telling me he's vanished without a trace. Well, I just won't accept that. You're just not doing your job!"

"Now, that's not fair, Jake," the sheriff said in a somewhat strained voice. "My men have been riding solid for two days. We've found nothing. The horses are done in for now." He nodded at the Kid. "Has your own man had any better luck?" Curry shook his head, and the sheriff crossed his arms over his chest in satisfaction.

Thurlow harrumphed, and bit down angrily on a thick cigar jutting out of the corner of his mouth. "Maybe I have to sweeten the pot," he spat out. "Very well. The man who brings in this doctor, dead or alive, gets a thousand dollar bonus from me. That's a guarantee."

There was a murmur of excited conversation among the riders and the onlookers who had begun gathering. Curry spotted Jenny Dugan sitting in a carriage in front of the bank, and he smiled at her. She waved back, and beckoned him over.

"Hold it, Jake," the sheriff started to protest. "A civilian just can't up and offer bounty on another man. That ain't legal."

"I'm not offering bounty, Sheriff," Thurlow said smoothly. "Just a bonus, you might say, if a man does a good job for the community."

Curry slipped away as the argument continued and joined Jenny at her carriage. "Morning," he greeted.

"Good morning yourself. " Her eyes twinkled as she glanced from Curry to the noisy crowd. "Mr. Thurlow is creating quite a circus, don't you think?"

Curry shrugged. "He wants the man who killed his son. I can understand that."

Jenny's eyes flickered and grew more serious. "Of course. I do, as well. Are you riding out again today?"

"Yup. There's a still lot of ground out there to cover. Beats me how a city man can stay hid so long." He thought Jenny was looking awfully pretty in her green skirt and vest, which brought out the pretty blush in her cheeks. "I'm glad to see you're not going to be wearing black all the time."

"Ned wouldn't have wanted it," she said softly. "He always liked to see me in bright colors. I'm glad you're not giving up the search," she said, abruptly changing the subject. "It's looking like the sheriff is about to give up the search."

"Not if Jake Thurlow has anything to say about it," Curry said wryly. "You know what they say: money talks. That's quite a reward he's offering."

"I'm certain that will apply to you as well. Providing you stay around."

The Kid smiled. "Are you worried I'm gonna leave town?"

Jenny smiled nervously. "Oh, dear. Well, I've never been very good at hiding my feelings from people I like. It 'just that there's going to be a charity dance tomorrow night, and I'd look forward to it ever so much more if I knew you were going to be there. And your partner, of course."

"I wouldn't miss it. And I think I can drag Joshua away from stocking shelves."

"Please don't think my wanting to dance mans any disrespect to Ned. This was all his planning. It meant so much to him, and I think it would be disrespectful of his memory if I didn't show up. Do you think I'm being wanton?" She smiled slightly. "I'd hate for you to think badly of me."

The kid took her hand in his, and stroked it gently. "I'd never think that. You're a very special lady. Anyone can see that."

"I don't want just anyone," she said softly, and the Kid felt a rush go all through him. But then there was a noisy clatter of horses behind him, and he watched as the posse galloped dustily off down the street. He sighed, and let go of Jenny's hand.

"I better get going. Mr. Thurlow isn't paying me to stand around town. I'll see you tomorrow night, Jenny." He tipped his hat and walked down to the livery to fetch his horse.

He put Jenny out of his mind as he reached the foothills north of town where the Sweetwater River flowed and offered the possibility of fishing. Maybe the doctor had headed back to where he'd gone the previous month. It was a long shot, but the only possibility Curry could think of. The doctor didn't know the countryside well enough to have remained hidden as long as he had. It stood to reason he might have stumbled upon some isolated spot while fishing, and if the Kid could find that same spot, he'd find the doctor as well.

The Kid followed the river up to Two Forks, a trading post on the way up to the Rockies that had flourished right after the war when people moved west in droves. In the past years it had evolved into more of a watering hole and gathering place where weary travelers could find hot food and a bed to sleep on. Curry gossiped with the saloon keeper about fishing, got some tips on where the trout might be biting best this week, and continued up into the hills, map in hand. The Kid was interested mainly in the second site suggested to him, because it was near an abandoned line shack which nobody used anymore after a big ranch holding had been split up into smaller homesteads. The line shack intrigued the Kid, for what better place to lay low for a spell than a place that offered cover from the winds and October rain?

After another hour into the hills, the Kid found the spot. The Kid approached the shack cautiously, stopping at the edge of a small meadow and dismounting to observe for a while from behind the protection of a thick stand of trees. It was a peaceful place, nestled in by three big hills and sheltered from the wind. The Kid listened to the dry rustle of breezes settling the dying leaves to the ground, and started as a fish jumped noisily out of a small pond in search of a lazy fly. But otherwise, nothing moved.

The Kid was patient when he had to be, and settled down to wait.

Heyes was stacking some empty boxes next to the back door of the storage room when he heard the bell over the mercantile entrance ring. He wiped off his hands to see if Clara might need some help. He was about to step through he doorway when he saw that the "customer" had his gun out and was pointing it at a very frightened Clara. Heyes pursed his lips and started reaching slowly for his gun, which was still hanging on the coat rack.

"Sorry, Ma'am," the robber was saying. "I need your money. And I need it now."

"You might have to wait a bit," Heyes voice cut through the stillness, and the robber whirled at the unexpected intruder. The two eyed each other silently, both with guns drawn.

"I think you might want to put that down, "Heyes suggested with cold brown eyes he reserved for facing down bounty hunters. The robber couldn't have been fifteen, and as he took in Heyes confident grip on his handgun, his own confidence faltered, and he lowered his weapon. Clara let out of sigh of relief.

Heyes walked over to the young man and took the gun from him. He shook his head. The boy was about the same age he'd been when he and his cousin started robbing banks. He was scrawny and wearing torn trousers and boots badly in need of new soles.

"You're just a store clerk!" the boy stammered. "How come you're carrying a gun?"

Heyes' mouth twitched into a smile. "Just one of my many talents." He slowly returned his gun to the holster and glanced over at Clara. "You all right?"

Clara nodded. "I don't really think he was going to do me any harm. Son," she said, turning to the young man, "when was the last time you ate? Is that why you're needing money?"

The boy blushed, and hung his head. "Ain't et since yesterday morning," he confessed. Clara set her lips in a determined frown and headed to the back door, and Heyes knew the boy's hunger would soon be satisfied.

"How long you been in the holdup business?" he asked the boy.

The boy hesitated. "Just a couple. Can't find work."

_Been there, _Heyes thought.

"Where'd you find the gun?"

"It ain't loaded," the boy said sheepishly. "Don't have the money for bullets."

Heyes checked the weapon and saw the boy was telling the truth. "What's your name? If I can find you some work, think you can find a new career path?"

"Name's Joe." The boy's eyes lit up. "I'd be obliged, sir. My folks would be ashamed to see me robbin'."

_Been there, too, Heyes_ thought. Clara emerging with a hefty ham sandwich and a glass of milk interrupted his thoughts. "There's a table in the back," she told Joe. "You go eat some food now."

"Thank you, Ma'am." The boy stepped eagerly into the storage room and Clara turned to Heyes.

"Thank you," she said, and eyed his handgun. "You look quite different with that gun pointed. I thought my heart would stop."

"It's just a tool," Heyes said softly. He glanced towards the back room. "Know anyone looking for some help? The boy could use a break."

Clara nodded. She wondered how much Heyes saw of himself in the youngster. "I'll ask around."

Kid's horse was munching contentedly on grasses, and his rider might have fallen asleep except for the job before him. After a few hours he finally stretched and walked his horse carefully out into the meadow and over to the shack. Kid pulled his gun from its holster, tethered his horse cautiously to a scrub tree, and then edged slowly up to the door. He took a steadying breath and kicked the door open. It gave easily, swinging quietly open on its hinges, then rocked gently back and forth in the wind. The quiet was eerie, and the Kid smiled to himself at his jumpiness as he peered cautiously inside. Nothing. At least not now. But the absence of dust on the small table and the tidiness of the small hearth suggested someone had been living there in recent days. Curry stepped softly into the room, spotted a door leading to another smaller room, and looked cautiously inside. A bed on an iron frame, a rusty gas lamp, and once again strangely neat for an abandoned shack.

Slowly the Kid took in the two rooms, swiveling thoughtfully on his boot heels. He walked over to the one window and scanned the meadow, listening to the incessant rush of wind through trees and brush. His neck tingled, and he had the uneasy feeling that someone was watching him. But he saw nothing, and his horse was standing quietly where he'd been tethered. The Kid shrugged, blaming his nervousness on the wind, but did not reholster his gun. He closed the shack back up, and walked searchingly around the small meadow, looking for any fresh signs of horse tracks or a man's footsteps. Leaves were falling steadily, obscuring any tracks that might have been left there. There was nothing out of the ordinary he could spot. Just the occasional splash of a fish from the pond, an angry chatter from a squirrel he frightened out of a tree, and the tingling in his neck that just wouldn't go away.

Finally Curry sighed and went back to his horse. Maybe the doctor had been ere, and maybe he was still here. But the Kid couldn't spot him. There were two more fishing sites on his list; he'd check them out and maybe swing back through here again if time permitted.

Jenny glanced up impatiently at the clock at the train station, and tapped her shoe. Naturally, the train was late. Henry had wired that he was coming in on it, and Jenny was anxious that as little notice as possible be taken of his arrival. When the engine finally chugged laboriously up the grade that led into Denton, belching thick black smoke into the moody gray sky, Jenny could hardly contain her excitement. She saw Henry waving to her from the passenger coach window, and she ran up to it and blew him a kiss. A moment later he was jumping down the steps and swept her up in his arms.

Her brother was looking good, she decided. Browned from working outside on a horse farm most of the day, and as she put her arm around him she was aware of muscles she hadn't felt before. Maybe he was working on someone else's ranch, but at least it wasn't doing him any harm…physically, at least. She saw frown lines that hadn't been there before, and there was a bitterness in his eyes she'd seen ever since that robbery that took away their savings and sent him to find work as a ranch hand, and her from town after dusty town in search of whatever money she could find. But that was about to end now. Two years wasn't a lifetime, she decided, and after they turned in Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry they'd be better off than they'd imagined even in their wildest fantasies.

As they waited for Henry's bag to come off the baggage car, Jenny spotted Heyes waiting outside the freight office. She grasped Henry's arm tightly, and pulled him to the other side of the platform.

"Don't be obvious about it," she whispered to him, "but if you look down at the freight office you'll see one of the reasons why I brought you here." She watched Henry peer discreetly over her shoulder and then go stiff.

"My god, Jenny. Hannibal Heyes. How did you find him?" Henry's eyes flashed with excitement, and she felt his hand trembling on her arm.

"He came to _me._ I'll explain it all later." She saw Henry reach down for the gun he had tucked into his belt, and she grabbed his hand violently. "No!" she hissed. Think a minute! You want Curry, too, don't you? Think, Henry!"

Slowly, Henry took his had away from his gun, and a deep sigh shook through him. "You're right, Sis. As usual. You got something better in mind?"

Jenny let out her breath in relief. "Much better. I know when and where they will be together, and without their guns. It will be perfect for you, Henry." She looked around nervously, not wanting Heyes to spot them. "Let's get out of here before he sees me. It would be a real shame to have something go wrong this late in my plan."

At the other end of the platform, Heyes looked up from his shipping receipts and frowned. He knew Jenny had spotted him; he'd seen her out of the corner of her eye. So why was she leaving so fast without even acknowledging him with a hello? Especially after the com-on she'd given him the day before. And who was that man she'd met? Too many questions, Heyes decided. And he didn't like it when he couldn't find out the answers.

"Here's your shipment," the stationmaster's voice interrupted. Heyes glanced down at the expected box, and signed the form thrust at him. He pretended to hesitate. He just had an idea.

"Where's the second box?" he asked, knowing that there was none. "Mrs. Hodges told me to expect a barrel of wheat flour."

The stationmaster scratched his head, looking back and forth from the form to the boxes on the platform in confusion. "I don't see no barrel," he said. "And the receipt says there's only one shipment expected."

"But Mrs. Hodges assured me there would be two," Heyes said insistently. "I'd hate to disappoint such a nice lady, wouldn't you?"

The station manager shrugged and pulled at his suspenders. "Don't know what I can do about it. You can see for yourself there ain't no barrels here. You only got one package, and the shipping form says that's all there's supposed to be."

Heyes tapped the box with his boot. "Mrs. Hodges wired for two shipments. She told me so herself." He pretended to hesitate. "At least, I think that's what she said. Maybe both weren't supposed to come at once."

The master snorted. "Well that's a fine thing. You don't even know what you're after, and here you are expecting _me_ to know for you."

Heyes brightened. "Say, we can clear this up right away. Let's check your telegram log. We'll find Mrs. Hodges' and see what she ordered in black and white."

"Well, I dunno. I got a lot to do here without plowing through a stack of papers."

"I'll do it for you, "Heyes volunteered. "I know you're a busy man."

The stationmaster hesitated, and then shrugged, adjusting his suspenders one more time. "Suit yourself. But don't read the other cables. That's private business, not you'n."

"No, sir. Don't worry." Heyes picked up the sheaf of yellow papers and rifled through them carefully. Less than a dozen had been sent out the last week, though for some reason or another the stationmaster had kept them for the entire year. Heyes knew he'd have plenty of time to search through them before the station man got worried. He'd read through a half-dozen, including Clara's, when he came upon one that puzzled him. To a Henry Dugan from a Ward Beckridge. Date the day after he and the Kid arrived in Denton.

"URGENT YOU COME DENTON IMMEDIATELY. MONEY WORRIES WILL BE OVER. WILL EXPLAIN ALL IN PERSON. LOVE, JENNY."

Heyes slammed the file shut as he saw the stationmaster heading toward him with an impatient look on his face. "And you were right. Mrs. Hodges only ordered this one box. Don't know why I thought there was more."

"Glad to straighten things out. It's not all that often, after all, that were here at the railroad make mistakes."

Heyes smiled, and tipped his hat. "Well, thanks again for your help," he said, and headed thoughtfully back down the street to the mercantile.

The Kid frowned as Heyes told him his suspicions while they were dressing that evening for the dance. "There are an awful lot of holes in your information," he commented, busying himself with knotting his tie.

"I know, I know," Heyes admitted. "It's like a jigsaw puzzle. Some of the pieces are missing. But when they fall together I'm not sure we're going to like the picture we make."

Curry sighed, and turned away from the mirror. "I don't get it, Heyes. You've had this thing about Jenny ever since you met her. What's the matter? You jealous or somethin'? "

Heyes concentrated on buttoning his shirt. "No! It ain't just Jenny. It's this town. I…."

"Yeah, yeah," Kid said impatiently. "You've got a funny feeling about this place."

"I've been right before."

The Kid walked over to face him in exasperation. "So, what do you want to do? Leave Denton? Give up this gold mine of a hundred a day looking for a scared man who may or may not have run off with the judge's money after his patient died? Want to saddle up and ride out?"

'You said yourself there is something wrong with Jenny's story," Heyes said after a pause, while the Kid applied a touch of after-shave lotion to his face.

"I didn't say that at all," Kid protested. "I just said certain things don't add up."

"And you won't dig any deeper because Jenny's got you blinded," Heyes said testily.

"Shut up about Jenny!" Kid snapped.

Heyes decided to pull back. No sense in having an argument over shadows and missing information. "All right, all right," he said easily. "I know you like her. Just do me a favor, would you, Kid?"

Curry's voice still had an undertone of tension. "What's that?"

"Keep both your eyes open."

The Kid hesitated, and then nodded with a tight smile. "But you're wrong about Jenny."

"I hope so," Heyes said as he pulled on his jacket. "I really hope so."

It seemed like everybody in the county had shown up for the dance. Heyes didn't know what charity it was for, but that didn't matter much. People had come for a good time, and to make sure they had it, Sheriff Riverton had asked the dance organizers to collect all the guns at the door. Heyes and Curry exchanged apprehensive glances when they were asked for their weapons, but obeyed. After all, what could go wrong at a dance? Curry soon forgot his nervousness when he spotted Jenny in an animated group across the floor. He wandered off to join her, leaving Heyes to his own devices.

Heyes stood off to one side and just watched for a while. The fiddle players weren't too bad, and the floor was filled with dancers. Off in one corner Heyes spotted a group of children trying to amuse themselves in adult company. The boys looked cranky and uncomfortable in their wool suits, and Heyes smiled as he remembered similar dances in Willow Glen, when he and his cousin used to…

"Are you going to dance, or just stand there watching the rest of us make fools of ourselves?" a familiar voice interrupted, and Heyes looked around to see Clara standing before him with a smile on her flushed face.

"Looks to me like you've had your share of partners already," he grinned. "Sure you want to gamble on a stumble foot like me?"

She curtsied formally. "If that is an invitation to dance, sir, I accept." Her eyes sparkled merrily as he extended his arm to her and led her out onto the floor.

After awhile he found himself actually enjoying himself, forgetting for at least a few hours that he was Hannibal Heyes, and that each stranger was a potential danger. He saw Curry had started a dance with Jenny; it looked like he was having fun, and Heyes tried to shrug off his suspicions. He recognized some of the faces from people he'd waited on at the store, and Clara began introducing him to people he hadn't met. Like the Tuttles, who ran the post office, a kind couple in their fifties who, he learned, had buried four sons after a prairie fire. And Zeke McAndrews, who ran the livery, and who had found a spot for Joe to land until something more permanent could be worked out. And Millie Parkinson, who taught the valley school children.

"A nice girl," Clara whispered to him conspiratorially. "A little plain, maybe, but she's the kind that will stick by you."

"What are you trying to do," he whispered back to her. "Hitch me up already?"

Clara laughed. "No, not really. I'm perfectly contented to keep you to myself tonight."

The fiddlers took a break, and Heyes led her over to the punch table. "Molly Clark," Clara greeted the woman serving out the cups. "I'd like you to meet Joshua Smith. He's my new assistant at the store."

Heyes smiled, and bowed politely. "Ma'am."

"My," Molly beamed, "if I'd known you had such a handsome young man at the store, I would have found cause to drop by."

Heyes blushed and handed Clara a cup. "See, " she whispered to him, "you an asset in more ways than one."

A loud voice suddenly cut through the hum of conversation as the fiddlers began tuning up for another dance. "Hannibal Heyes! Move, and you're a dead man!"

The room shattered into silence, and all eyes flew first to the speaker, Henry Dugan, and then shifted around the room to see whom the stranger was calling to. Otherwise, nobody moved; the fiddlers' fingers seemed paralyzed on their strings, Molly Clark kept a punch cup frozen in her hand, and a child began to whimper. With all eyes on Heyes, Kid Curry looked for the nearest weapon, and saw one atop a stack of coats on the floor in the corner. Henry's back was to him, so he began to edge carefully in that direction.

Heyes felt like every nerve in his body had tensed. He froze, his back to the speaker, acutely aware that neither he nor the Kid was armed. He felt the probing eyes of the room upon him, saw Clara's look of confusion, and his back began to itch from anticipating a bullet slamming into him. Slowly, he raised both hands in the air. It was time for his silver tongue.

"I think there's been some kind of mistake," he said, stalling for time, seeing out of the corner of his eye the Kid inching along the wall.

"Not hardly likely," the same cold voice said. "I'm not about to forget the face of the man who took everything in my life from me."

"You must have me confused with someone else," Heyes continued. "My name's Joshua Smith."

"Shut up! Two years ago you held up the Wichita Express. Bold as can be. No bandana hiding your face. You busted me and my sister. Since then I've vowed to get even, Heyes. Somehow I knew this time would come. And here it is. How does it feel to be at the wrong end of a gun?"

"Not too good," Heyes admitted, trying to make his voice sound casual. Every one of his senses was looking for an opening, for some way to dodge the aim of that cold steel barrel pointing at him. He prayed that someone, anyone, would make a move and distract the man's attention. But the crowd was staring at him in horror, too stunned to react. "I'm unarmed," he said, and started to turn to see who the speaker was.

It happened in an instant. Heyes saw a spurt of flame flash from Dugan's gun barrel, and then something hot and powerful slammed him against the table. Punch cups and china plates shattered angrily as the table collapsed beneath him, and the muffled retort of the gun mixed with the frightened screams of the party guests as his head hit the floor and he lay there amid the shards of glass and the punch spills, surprisingly still conscious. Heyes heard a strangled cry from across the room, and saw from the crazy angle his head was tiled as the Kid finally reached the handgun he'd been edging towards. Henry Dugan turned at the same instant, a look of fear washing across his face as he realized his fatal error: he'd been so intent on getting Hannibal Heyes, he'd forgotten all about Kid Curry.

The Kid was swinging with incredible swiftness towards Dugan, and Heyes knew in that millionth of a second that he became aware of his chin cutting against some glass and a burning agony moving up from his left side, that he had to stop what was going to happen. He couldn't let Kid Curry commit murder, and he knew there was only one man in the entire world that could stop him now.

"Don't, Kid!" he managed to shout. Time suddenly went into slow motion as he saw the Kid's finger close around the trigger of his gun, saw Henry Dugan's face register his own death, and saw the frightened eyes of the crowd upon them. Then, miraculously, Kid Curry stopped, white fury on his face, and instead of shooting Dugan, punched him powerfully in the jaw. Dugan crumpled and lay motionless on the floor. Heyes let out a sigh of relief and tried to push himself off the floor, but his hands refused to obey him.

The sound of the Kid's boots hurrying across the room towards him was the only noise in the large hall. The partygoers stood frozen in the same positions they'd been in when Henry Dugan entered the room. Heyes wondered vaguely if anything was going to break the spell. Obviously the Kid figured something just might, for he kept his gun trained on the room as he knelt down next to Heyes and gently laid him onto the floor.

"Don't anybody even think about moving," the Kid said in his iciest voice, "or it will be the last thought they ever have."

No one stirred, and it seemed to Heyes they were clustered about him like vultures, as if they were enjoying the drama of the death throes of a field mouse. _Damn it, _Heyes cursed to himself, he wasn't going to be the one to provide free entertainment. He looked up into the taut, haunted eyes of his cousin.

"Heyes!" the Kid whispered. "My God!"

Heyes pulled his mouth into a painful smile. "It's gonna be okay. Just get me outa here. Fast."

Jenny Dugan sudden made a hesitant move towards them, and the Kid swung his gun swiftly at her. "Stop right there."

She looked at him in shock. "Me, too? You think I would do something to harm you?"

"I can't trust anybody in this room, " Curry said heavily. "I told nobody to move, and damn it, I mean it!" He bent back over Heyes and saw the blood beginning to spread across his chest. He was going to have to have some attention before they could leave, or he'd bleed to death right here on the floor.

"Kid," Heyes whispered, "Give me a gun. You're gonna need help."

Curry nodded with a wan smile, and then motioned to a woman standing over Dugan's unconscious form. "Ma'am, give me his gun. Barrel forward." The woman hesitated, but then handed him the weapon with shaking fingers and stood back. The Kid put it in Heyes' right hand, and eased him to a semi-upright position against the wall. He could see Heyes was fighting hard to stay conscious, knowing both of their lives depended on his being able to move under his own power. The Kid glanced coldly around the room, his stomach muscles tightening as he became aware of their extreme danger. The only thing working in his favor is that not a single person in the room was carrying a weapon. But chances were someone outside had heard the shot. Maybe gone for the sheriff. He had to get Heyes out on the road, and fast. He glanced back down at his cousin, who was keeping a grim watch on the room with a none-too-steady-gun hand, and frowned at the big smear of red across his shirt. First things first.

Then the Kid spotted Clara staring at them with a mixture of fright and compassion. He'd have to gamble on her, and on Heyes' trust in her. "Ma'am? He asked, and she nodded timidly. "I'm asking you nicely now to get some of that sheet from the table, and rip it into some bandages for me." Clara followed his gaze to the cloth strewn across the floor, and sudden set her jaw, nodded, and did what the Kid asked. The room seemed to listen with one ear to the harsh ripping of the cloth, and to Heyes' uneven breathing.

"If you like," Clara said gently, "I'll bind these around him. You'll be needing an extra set of hands."

The Kid sighed in relief. "Thank you."

"Don't do it, Clara!" a woman called out. "You can't help these outlaws."

Clara faced the room angrily, straightening all five feet of her into a posture of defiance. "I don't know how many of you would have stopped yourself from shooting someone who'd just tried to kill _your_ friend. And I don't care if this man is Hannibal Heyes or not. He's a decent and kind young man, and I don't intend to let him die before my very eyes."

The room watched silently as she walked over to Heyes, adjusted her skirts so they wouldn't be in the way, and then knelt beside him to try and stop the bleeding.

Heyes smiled up at her weakly. "Thank you," he whispered. The extreme pain bursting up from his chest cleared for his mind now. The fever would come later, he knew. Now he was just cold, very cold, and his whole body was beginning to tremble from the shock to his system.

"I'm so sorry, Josh…Hannibal," she whispered back. She carefully pulled away his blood-soaked shirt and eyed the wound. Heyes saw the worry in her eyes as her mouth twitched tensely, and he lowered his gun to the floor.

"You need a doctor," Clara said in an amazingly even voice. "I'll do what I can for now."

Heyes winced as she moved him onto his side to wind the cloth around him, and closed his eyes briefly from the pain. _No, _he ordered himself. _Stay conscious. Wait until we're out of this mess before you enjoy the luxury of closing your eyes._ It was just that the lights in the room seemed overly bright, and were beginning to spin crazily in sparkles of red and blue. Heyes steeled himself and forced his eyelids to open and take in the still silent room and the strained, anxious face of the Kid. Clara finished knotting the makeshift bandage in place, and stroked her hand gently across his cheek. "I wish there were more I could do. Hannibal, I'm so sorry."

Heyes smiled tightly. "You're an angel," he whispered.

Clara kissed her fingers and pressed them to his lips, then stood up and faced the Kid. "The bullet went clean through him, Mr. Jones. You make sure he gets some care real fast, won't you?"

Curry nodded, and took the roll of extra linen from her as she resumed her place near the fallen table. They he backed towards Heyes, still keeping his gun leveled at the onlookers.

"Time to go," he said quietly. He bent down over him and put his left arm around Heyes' back to brace him to his feet. Heyes let out a gasp of pain and bit open his lip, but managed to stand, weaving dizzily against the Kid's strong supporting arm.

Curry forced a smile on his face. "Don't make me carry you, Joshua. You've been eatin' too much good food lately."

Sweat was breaking out in streams down Heyes' forehead, but he managed to return the smile. "I'm okay," he gasped, all appearances to the contrary. "Let's move."

The Kid swiveled carefully to face the room. "We're gonna walk out of here now," he announced coldly. "And please, don't anybody try to stop us or follow too closely on our heels. My partner here may not look like he can do much, but I can assure you, his gun hand still works, and my finger won't leave my trigger for a second. "

They took a dozen cautious steps to the door before Curry turned briefly back to the crowd. " I know none of you had anything to do with what happened here tonight, and I'm real sorry we spoiled your party."

He pushed open the door with his right boot, and eased Heyes out into the cold night air. Curry half expected the door to burst open right behind them, but there was no movement, and had the time to haul Heyes over to their tethered horses. The cold air revived Heyes, and he straightened slightly under Curry's arm. But Curry could see there was no way Heyes was going to be able to ride his own horse, so Curry clumsily tied a lead rope to Heyes' horse and then pushed him awkwardly up onto his own saddle. Heyes endured it silently, trying not to scream out from the spasms that wanted to tear his chest in two, concentrating on leaning against the saddle horn while the Kid mounted up behind him.

"Lean against me, Heyes," the Kid said gently, and Heyes eased back gratefully against him. The kid dug his spurs into his horse's side, and they galloped from the dance hall. They both listened for the expected crack of rifle shots, but there was only the clatter of the horses' hooves against the hard dirt road, and the roar of the wind in their ears.

They rode for four hours, until the Kid decided it was safe enough to stop worrying about any posse on their trail, and start worrying about Heyes. He had barely moved during the ride, and it was only the Kid's arms around his waist that kept him from slipping out of the saddle. Curry was apprehensive about where they were going to be able to find help. The only doctor he could be sure of was back in Denton and not about to help them. That left the mysterious Doctor Munroe, and a terrific gamble. The doctor _had_ to be hiding out in the line shack the Kid had investigated. Curry had no proof, just a strong hunch, strong enough that he was going to gamble Heyes' life on the chance that he was right.

The Kid stopped only after they reached the fork with Calder River. He felt something wet on his hands, and knew without looking that it was Heyes' blood. He pulled Heyes closer to him, and his stomach tightened in fear. Finding a thick stand of trees, the Kid reined in and eased carefully off the hor. He kept a support hand on Heyes as he pulled him as gently as he could to the ground, and laid him out on some grass by the riverbank. Carefully, the kid unbuttoned Heyes' jacket, and swore to himself in frustration. The bandages were already soaked through and would have to be changed before they dared move on. The Kid put his jacket over Heyes to keep him warm as he went back to the saddlebags. He pulled out the spare clothes, and took them down to the water, dousing one of them thoroughly. He crouched over Heyes' limp body, and as delicately as he knew how, unwound the soiled bandage and then pressed the fresh wet one firmly against the wound, hoping the pressure and the cold together might slow down the bleeding some. Heyes let out a groan, and as the Kid continued applying the pressure, his eyes flew open and focused slowly on him, reflecting a combination of worry, curiosity and pain.

"Easy," the Kid soothed. "You're still bleeding."

Heyes nodded shakily that he understood, but then cried out as the pain finally pierced through his consciousness. The Kid held his shoulders down to keep him from thrashing about, and after a moment the spasms stopped. "Anybody…following?" Heyes gasped, and looked relieved when the Kid shook his head.

"We're gonna be fine. Just hang on till I get you to the doctor."

Heyes looked at him in disbelief. "Where…you gonna find…a doctor…out…here?"

"Trust me," the Kid chided, and uncapped his canteen. "Thirsty?" Heyes nodded, and Kid raised up his head slightly and forced some liquid into his mouth. Heyes drank thirstily, and the Kid doused his kerchief with some of the water and wiped off the sweat streaming down Heyes' face and neck. Heyes smiled his thanks and lay shivering from the cold as Kid finished with the compress and carefully wound a fresh bandage around Heyes' shoulder and chest. Heyes opened his eyes and tried feebly to push himself up off the ground.

"Let's go," he whispered. "Don't know…how much long…I can hold out."

Curry nodded grimly, and supported him back onto the horse.

Kid found the line shack without too much trouble. He paused cautiously at the rim of the familiar meadow and looked it over. It still seemed deserted, and the Kid nudged the horses apprehensively towards the cabin. _It's late,_ he told himself, _the doctor's inside, but he's sound asleep._ Curry dismounted outside the door and drew his gun. Heyes was collapsed forward onto the saddle horn and didn't seem to be in too great a danger of falling, so the Kid left him there while he edged carefully over to the door. It opened unexpectedly just as he was about to kick it with his boot, and he found himself looking down the gleaming barrel of a rifle.

"Looks like we're at a standoff, doesn't it….Doctor Munroe?" the Kid asked tightly, and looked up from the rifle into the eyes of a man surprisingly not much older than himself, with light brown hair and an unshaven face, looking slightly out of place in an oversized farmer's jacket. The rifle didn't waver, but the man nodded curtly.

"And you're the man who's been trailing me."

"One of them. There's a posse after you as well. But tonight I'm after you because I need a doctor. Real bad."

Munroe looked over Curry's shoulder and spotted Heyes, and lowered the rifle to the ground. He hurried over to him and laid a hand on Heyes' forehead and frowned. "Do you always come after doctors with a handgun?"

Kid sighed and walked over to the horse. "I told you there is a posse after you. What I didn't tell you is that there is a posse after us, as well." The doctor's eyes flew at him in surprise. "My friend here," Curry continued in a heavy voice, " is Hannibal Heyes. And I am…"

"Kid Curry" the doctor interrupted flatly. "I've heard of you."

"Will you help us?" The Kid saw the doctor eyeing his gun apprehensively, and suddenly thrust it at him barrel forward. "I don't aim to hurt you."

The doctor visibly relaxed, and turned back to Heyes. "Then help me carry your partner inside, and I'll take a look at him."

Together they lifted Heyes into the small storage room and laid him down on the bed. The Kid struck a match while the doctor quickly undid Heyes' shirt and took a quick look at the wound. "Get a fire started," he snapped to the Kid. "And bring in the other lamp from the next room. There's a pot next to the fireplace. Fill it with fresh water and get it to boiling."

The Kid blinked, and almost smiled as he moved to obey. "Yes SIR," he said, and as he worked he watched the doctor carefully cut Heyes' shirt away from him, and then the bandage. Munroe took off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, then went over to a trap door, opened it, and brought out his doctor's bag.

"You're lucky I was able to bring this with me," he said.

After Curry got the water boiling, Dr Munroe dropped some instruments into the pot and took the last of the bandages the Kid had stuffed into his saddlebag. He doused one of them with a liquid from a bottle marked "alcohol" and went back to Heyes. Curry joined him at the bedside.

"You the one did the wrapping?" Munroe asked as he turned Heyes gently over on his side and examined the entry wound. Curry nodded mutely. "You put good pressure on the wound. It's pretty clean," he announced matter-of-factly. "He was fortunate the bullet passed right through him. I guarantee you he wouldn't have survived your journey with a bullet still in his chest."

"What are his chances?" the Kid asked softly, watching apprehensively as the doctor took the soaked cloth and started cleaning the wound. Heyes arched up off the bed as the alcohol seeped into his flesh, and his eyes flew open in agony. He looked around the spinning room in confusion, thoroughly dislocated.

Curry put his hand on Heyes' forehead. "I found the doctor," he greeted.

Heyes' eyes zeroed in on him and started to relax until another wave of pain washed over him. "How…?" he gasped, trying to pull away from the cloth.

"Hold him down," Munroe snapped. "I've got to clean the wounds and stop all this bleeding."

The Kid put his hands on Heyes' shoulders and fought against his movement while the doctor went into the other room and returned with his equipment. Gradually the spasms eased, and Heyes sagged against the bed in exhaustion. The Kid smiled at him in encouragement, but was worried by his partner's ashen skin and the dark circles forming under his eyes. Doctor Munroe rejoined them, took another cloth doused in alcohol and gently mopped off Heyes' streaming face and neck. The alcohol roused Heyes again, and his eyes fluttered open.

"Kid?" he whispered.

"I'm here, Heyes." Curry took one of Heyes' hands in his own, offering what comfort he could.

Heyes looked around the room searchingly, but it was tilting crazily and he couldn't keep the horizon steady. There were two blurs beside him, and he tried unsuccessfully to focus his eyes.

"Mr. Heyes, " the doctor interrupted firmly, "please don't talk. And try to lie as still as you can. Only if you work together with me at all times can we hope to pull your through this."

Heyes blinked at one of the blurs, then nodded briefly and tried to relax against the mattress. A dark spinning circle was trying to suck him inside, and it was becoming harder and harder to resist. It was suffocatingly warm, and he was very tired. The two blurs became an infinity of blurs, and Heyes watched the shapes glow and move hypnotically into the blackness.

"Mr. Curry," the doctor said urgently. "Hold him tightly. I'm going to have to sew him up now."

Heyes set out on a strange journey. He was lighter than air, he could float and swirl up into the bizarre black clouds, glide peacefully in and out of the flashing white stars. Then he was back in Willow Glen, at a party for Uncle Maxwell. All the adults were in the big room dancing and making too much noise. He was stuck in the back room with the rest of the children, uncomfortable in his new woolen suit. The situation would have been completely intolerable except for the presence of his best friend and confidant, his cousin Jedediah Curry. They were a year apart, but had been inseparable once Jed started walking. They sat together now on the wooden floor, peering morosely through a crack in the door at the swirling skirts and the flickering swirls of light coming from the lanterns along the wall.

"It ain't fair," Heyes complained. "Stickin' us in here with the babies."

Curry looked glumly at the row of sleeping infants. As usual, he waited for Heyes to come up with a plan. "So, do something, " he encouraged. "I'll help."

Heyes grinned at him. "I'm thinkin' on it." They continued their vigil for several more minutes before Heyes suddenly giggled. He reached into his jacket pocked and pulled out a string of firecrackers he'd brought from an old Chinaman in town. "Go get me Tramp," he ordered. Curry looked puzzled, but tiptoed outside and returned shortly with the playful German shepherd.

"Whatcha gonna do?" he asked, watching as Heyes tied the firecrackers to the poor dog's tail. His eyes widened as Heyes triumphantly pulled some matches out of his trouser pocket.

"We're gonna get in awful bad trouble," Jed whispered, but giggled in anticipation as he held Tram steady while Heyes lit the firecracker at the end of the string. The boys then shoved the terrified dog out onto the dance floor, and squatted in the doorway to see the fruits of their labor. It was better than Heyes could have hoped for. Tramp lit off like a comet, smashing over tables and sending punch bowls and cake plates flying. Women shrieked and the men began shouting and chasing after the dog, which only made things worse. By the time the last firecracker went out, the party was in shambles. Tramp was howling mournfully in the corner and licking at his tail, and the adults were looking about them in a daze.

All except for Heyes' father, who walked to the center of the room and looked about for who he knew was to blame. "Hannibal!" he thundered.

Han and Jed looked at each other uneasily, and then Heyes sighed and walked slowly into the now quiet room. He stood before his father with a bowed head, uncomfortably conscious of every eye in the room upon him.

"You, sir, I assume are responsible for this debacle?" his father said to him, making it a statement more than a question. Heyes nodded. "Yes, sir." He heard the sound of his cousin's shoes as he joined him in the center of the room.

"We both are," young Curry said. The two boys snuck glances at each other and tried not to grin.

Heyes' father looked down at the two respectfully bowed heads and sighed deeply, then looked across the room at Maxwell Curry, who nodded meaningfully. "Very well then. You two can spend the rest of the evening imagining the whipping you'll both be receiving tomorrow morning. Though frankly, Jedediah, I'm sure this was Hannibal's scheme, and I'm never quite sure why you go along so willingly on his road to self destruction."

Heyes and Curry locked eyes. How could they explain that it was the excitement of the unexpected, challenging the humdrum, which made punishment only an accepted risk of the endeavor?

Curry sat watching Heyes fight the pain, and wondered at the sudden smile that cross his lips, wondered what Heyes was seeing in his fever dreams.

"You should get some rest," Munroe suddenly said. "It's almost daybreak, and there's not much else to be done now but wait."

"I'm not too good at waiting," Curry said. "And if he wakes, he'll want to see me."

"If he wakes, I'll come get you." Munroe eyed Curry's exhausted features, and laid a friendly hand on his arm. "You should get out of that shirt. I'll put it to soak."

Curry glanced down and only then became aware of the blood staining his clothing. Heyes' blood. He shuddered, and carefully unbuttoned the garment, fingering the stains. How many times had either he or his cousin been wounded while waiting for their amnesty? Too many times. Far too many.

"Jed!" Heyes called out, and Curry turned to him. He seemed to be dreaming again.

This time he was he was ten. He was in his parents' bedroom, watching his mother thrash about with fever. His father had died hours before. Somehow Heyes had carried him over to the fire, hoping its warmth would heat up the cold body he laid there. The doctor was out of the county, and Han knew that if he ran to the neighbors for help he'd only find they had the sickness, as well. The fever had come on them so suddenly, and Hannibal didn't understand why he had been spared. If he was kept well so that he could take care of his parents, why was it he didn't know what to do? He'd tried everything. He'd built the fire up until it was good and hot; he'd forced his mother and father to drink as much liquid as they could hold. He'd spent the last hours mopping off his mother's drenched face with cold cloths and murmuring words of encouragement to her, but she didn't seem to hear him. She was growing quieter by the hour, just like his father had, and deep down young Hannibal Heyes knew his mother was dying. It was unfair. There should be something he could do to help. He always had a Hannibal Heyes plan. Until now. He found himself growing angrier and angrier as he watched his mother fade under his ministrations. By the time her body stilled, he was consumed with fury. He could find no tears as he sat on the bed and watched her now-peaceful face, and he hated himself that he should feel so little.

Finally he burst from the room and ran out into the yard, desperate to release the anger exploding within him. He saw the obstinate oak tree his father had been trying to clear for the past weeks, and his jaw set with determination. He grabbed the hatchet and began pounding at the stubborn wood, his young face twisted and red from the effort. He kept at it, chipping away layer by layer at the oak, his muscles quivering from the effort. Yet the oak refused to yield, it stood there and defied him, just as the fever that consumed his parents had defied him. He looked up from his labor only when he heard the sound of horses, and saw his Uncle Maxwell driving up the road in his wagon, Jedediah perched on the driver's seat beside him. Maxwell pulled up in front of the house and eyed Hannibal in shock, hearing his gasping breath and seeing him shaking from exhaustion.

"Hannibal?" he asked as he jumped off the wagon. "What is it, son?"

Hannibal threw the hatchet down and began to run, away from the house with its ghastly fever; away from the kind eyes and sympathy he didn't know how to accept. Jedediah ran after him and caught up with him only after Hannibal reached the river. Hannibal threw himself down on the dirt and pounded on it furiously with both fists, stopping only when his cousin jumped on him and tried to pin him still. He saw Jed's worried look and he tried to thrust him away, but then the tears came, unwelcome at first, but finally such a relief to all the pain inside him. Jedediah sat patiently beside him and patted his back while Hannibal cried himself out, and after several minutes Han was himself again. He straightened shakily and wiped off his face with the cuff of his shirt.

Maxwell Curry saw them coming back across the field together, arms around each other, and he marveled at the intensity of their closeness. He put a gentle hand on Hannibal's shoulder, and when Hannibal looked up at him, Maxwell realized the boy had matured beyond his years. "You'll come live with us now, Hannibal. Providing you'd like to, of course."

Hannibal looked at his cousin, who nodded encouragingly, then turned back to his uncle. "Thank you, sir. After we bury them."

Heyes twisted and moaned in the bed, and the doctor leaned forward to hold him steady. He'd braced Heyes on his side to take the pressure off the wounds, and it was vital that he kept as still as possible so he wouldn't start to bleed again. But Heyes was consumed by fever, and had been talking deliriously on and off for hours. The doctor had nothing to ease the pain that he knew was overpowering his patient. All he could do was keep him warm, keep him still, and wait.

Heyes floated again, back to the Fourth of July and his twelfth year. All summer he and the other boys had been secretly practicing with fast drawing a pistol they'd discovered tossed aside in a field, perhaps by one of the bedraggled men returning from the war. Uncle Maxwell had whipped him and his cousin soundly the first time he'd caught them shooting behind the barn. Since then the two boys snuck off down by the river to practice, out of earshot of the farm.

Hannibal had never seen anything like the way his cousin took to the gun. After only a few practices he could draw the weapon in a smooth motion and hit the target, as if the gun were just an extension of his right hand. Hannibal gave up trying to play the role of older, wiser cousin. Instead he kept a keen eye on the Kid, as he'd started calling him, did right, and what he himself did wrong. No matter how hard he practiced, he knew he'd never be as good as his cousin. He decided it was a good thing the Kid would always be on his side, watching his back.

Then Heyes came up with a plan…a way to make a profit off his cousin's skill. He insisted that the Kid keep his prowess to himself so as to improve the odds, and arranged among the other boys a fast—draw contest to celebrate the Fourth. The plan was to assemble secretly after the town picnic, down by Murcheon's Glen. A dollar an entry, and the fastest draw would take home the whole pot. They'd load the guns up with blanks and do mock showdowns to test their skill. The winner would challenge the next boy, and so on, until the last round. Whoever won that would get the winnings. And Hannibal figured there was no way at all his cousin would fair to win.

It was during the picnic that he overheard the town bully, a thickheaded farm boy named Harold Jenkins, talking over a plan of doing a fast draw of quite another kind. "I got me real bullets," Jenkins was confiding to another boy. "When that smart-ass Curry comes up against me, he'll be in for a surprise."

"But that ain't right," the other boy protested. "You'll hurt him."

Jenkins shoved the boy to the ground. "Shut up, snot face. Curry's always boasting about how fast he is. I wanta put him in his place. I thought you were man enough to stand by me. I can see you ain't."

"I'll tell," the boy threatened after backing a safe distance away. Harold was upon him in an instant, and with a nasty punch to the nose flattened him again to the ground.

"You'll shut up," Harold hissed, or each time you see me coming you'll ge4t more of the same."

Heyes hurried away to find the Kid. He pulled him away from the food table and over to the privacy of the barn. "We gotta call this contest off," he said, and told him about Jenkins. The Kid blinked, and shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't think you can do that," he said. "Jenkins is so stubborn, once he sets his dumb mind on a thing he never veers off." He saw his cousin's worried face, and cuffed him playfully on the shoulder. "I'll be okay. Don't worry."

"How are you gonna be okay when he's got real bullets and you don't? No, I'm gonna call it off. Give everybody their money back."

"You can try to call it off all you like," the Kid said softly. "But if you tell the other kids will call you a dirty fink. There's only one way to handle this. I'm gonna get some real bullets of my own."

Heyes grabbed his arm. "You're crazy! You know that, don't you? You could get killed. Is Harold Jenkins worth you getting killed."

Jed smiled. If there was one thing he was sure about, it was his fast draw. "Don't you see? Harold's gonna call me out. Today, or some other day. Do I have a choice?"

Heyes considered a moment. "No, I guess not. But you see, don't you? He calls you out and you win, because that's what you're gonna do, cuz there ain't nobody faster'n you. And that's it for you. Everybody will be calling you, testing you, trying to beat you. It'll be lousy for you." His brown eyes darkened, helpless to stop what he blamed himself for starting.

"I'll be okay. You'll always be there to keep me out of trouble, won't you?"

Heyes smiled crookedly. "Just make sure you beat him. And beat him good."

Heyes still tried to call off the shooting match, and gave all the money back except to Harold, who shoved it back in his face. "Where's your chickenshit cousin?" he demanded noisily, and the voices from the nearby picnic tables quieted in surprise.

"Leave him out of this," Heyes said coldly. "This contest was my idea, so if you don't like me calling it off, deal with ME. Not him."

"Your little cousin hiding behind you again?" Harold asked even more loudly.

He was answered by the Kid's quiet voice. "Here I am, Harold." Heyes turned as his cousin walked slowly towards them across the barnyard. "Give it up," Heyes urged Harold. "He's a lot faster'n you. You don't have a chance."

"Well that's what we're about to find out, ain't it." The two boys squared off twenty feet from each other, striking what they imagined to be gunfighters' poses. By this time the adults at the picnic suddenly realized what was going on. Heyes saw his Uncle Maxwell and Aunt Beth leap up from their benches and rush towards them.

"Ma! Pa! " the Kid said firmly. "You keep out of this."

"You stop this right now, do you hear?" Maxwell shouted angrily. Whose ridiculous idea is this? Your cousin's again?"

Heyes flushed, too worried about his cousin to reply. "Han had nothin' to do with it," the Kid replied, and Heyes marveled at how the Kid never took his eyes off Harold's gun hand, even while he was talking. Heyes had never seen his cousin like this; ramrod still, colder'n winter ice. Fearful in his intensity. "This is Harold's idea. All of it."

"You bet your damn life it is," Harold sneered, and before anything more could be said he went for his gun. Jedediah Curry moved faster than anyone in Willow Glen had ever seen before. Some swore his hand never moved, but suddenly the weapon was in his hand spurting deadly flame, and Harold sank to the ground in shock, his gun barely out of his holster. For a long moment nobody moved, then Heyes walked slowly over to his cousin, put his arm around his should, and led him away from the shocked faces.

"I think he's dead," the Kid whispered as they walked off. "Damn it, Han! I tried to shoot high. But I'm just not good enough yet."

"You're TOO good, Cousin," Heyes said comfortingly. "And I'm afraid for you."

The doctor looked over at the exhausted face of Kid Curry and patted his arm in sympathy. "You really need to get some rest. I'm staying with him."

Curry kept his gaze on Heyes' pinched face. Even unconscious he seemed aware of the pain, trying constantly to clutch at his side. The doctor kept holding him down, and finally in desperation tied his uninjured right arm to the iron headboard. Heyes' writhing grew less violent as the long hours passed and night fell for the second time. For long moments he'd lie completely still beneath the blankets, and Curry found himself almost praying for Heyes to start moving again. At least then there was some sign Heyes was fighting his wounds, and that he'd get the better of the fever sweeping over him. "Stay with me, Han," he murmured into his ear. "I've got your back."

Excruciatingly, the night became day, and then night again.

Heyes felt himself being pulled head over foot into the vortex of a terrible tornado. It spun him helplessly from side to side, like giant fists pummeling him incessantly. Then the circles slowed, and Heyes saw it was nighttime, and he was back in Willow Glen. He was older now, fourteen, and returning from a school dance with his cousin.

"Tell me honestly now," Kid was laughing as they walked up the dirt road together. It was a warm summer night, and full moon had lured them outside the dance hall to sneak tentative kisses with their dance partners.

"She's pretty, real pretty," Heyes assured him. It had been Curry's first brush with kissing, and he wanted to make sure he'd done it right. Heyes himself felt warm and tingly all over. Patricia had given him good reason to hope for much more out than just hugging, and for the first time in weeks he and the Kid had been able to stop worrying about the thugs the railroad had sent to Willow Glen to try to "persuade" the famers to sell off their land for the new freight line. Two days ago the railroad men disappeared, and Uncle Maxwell said they had given up. So Heyes and Curry had taken advantage of the lull to let off a little steam.

"She sure is," Curry agreed.

Heyes laughed and slapped him playfully on the back, and they continued their banter until they rounded Cooper's Hill and saw the flames down in the valley.

"It's the house!" Kid exclaimed, and felt his stomach tighten with dread. He and Heyes looked at each other in sudden comprehension. The railroad men had pulled out of town so that the farmers would put their guard down. And now they'd struck. The cousins began running full speed across the fields.

By the time they reached the farm, it was too late to put out the fire. Both floors of the house were fully involved, and now the barn was starting to go. The stock must not have been brought in for the night; they were whinnying in fear in the far field. Curry looked around in panic.

"Where are Ma and Pa? Where are they, Han?"

They started shouting for them and searching the yard, but there was no trace. "Maybe they went into town?" asked the Kid doubtfully.

Heyes slowly shook his head, and stared dully at the sheet of flame where once the house had stood. "I don't think so, Jed."

Curry followed his gaze, and Heyes saw his eyes fill with agony. "No," he whispered. "If we'd been home…"

"Don't even think it! I don't suppose we could have stopped them."

The Kid wiped furiously at his eyes, and they stood watching together as the fire slowly died down, leaving only the singed fireplace and piles of glowing embers. When the last flame flickered out, Kid drew a shaky breath and reached for his gun. He examined the cartridge chamber with cold deliberation, and rammed the gun firmly back into his holster. Heyes watched him with a raised eyebrow.

"What's that all about?"

"Stopping' 'me."

'Stopping' WHOM? Who did this? Do you really know?"

"C'mon, Han," the Kid said angrily. "You know just like I do. The railroad men. They're gonna wish we _had_ been home when they did this tonight."

Heyes grabbed his cousin's shoulder and tried to shake some sense into him. "But we don't have any proof, Jed! If you go into town with your guns blazing, they'll lock you up for murder. This isn't the way to get back at them."

Curry's cheeks flushed hotly. "I don't understand you. Don't you want to get back at the men who did this? Don't you feel for Ma and Pa?"

Heyes paled. "Of course I do. Damn it, they were like parents to me, too. But just getting mad can't bring'em back. The railroad will call in more men to kill you for shooting them. Don't you see?"

"No! All I see is that while we stand here talkin', the men who did this are gettin' farther and farther away. And I'm goin' after them."

He stormed away from Heyes, who stood for a moment shaking his head in frustration before running after him and tackling him to the ground. They went at it with fists and kicks, Curry so explosive he was hardly aware of who he was fighting, only that he needed to lash out. They rolled down the embankment to the creek. Heyes laid a solid punch to the Kid's jaw, but Kid lashed back with a vicious kick that sent Heyes flying against some rocks. He landed roughly on his left arm, and groaned. The Kid staggered over to him, ready to land the next blow once Heyes got back on his feet. But then he saw that his cousin was hurt. Instantly the smoldering fury left his eyes, and he knelt down beside him in exhaustion.

"You broke my arm," Heyes said with gritted teeth.

The Kid shook his head to clear away the anger, then reached out his hand to clasp Heyes' shoulder. "You'd a done anything to keep me from going into town, wouldn't you? "

Heyes grasped his throbbing arm in his right hand. "I'd do anything to stop you from getting' killed. Why are you so thick-headed we have to go through all this just to bang some sense into you?" His lips pulled into a ragged smile, which Kid slowly returned.

"I just hate admitting you're usually right. There probably _is_ a better way to get back at the railroad. And I know you'll think of something."

Heyes eased himself painfully to his feet, accepting the support of his cousin's arm. "I already have thought of something. One day we'll hit'em where it hurts the most. In the pocketbook." He locked eyes with Curry. "We'll hit'em hard. And…" Heyes looked around sadly at the fields just now beginning to lighten with the rising sun…"and we'll probably never be back here again."

Kid Curry opened his eyes fuzzily, at first not remembering where he was. Then it came back to him. Heyes was hurt bad, they were in a line cabin, and the doctor had finally talked him into getting some rest. He staggered to his feet and walked groggily into the next room. It was dark again. Three nights now that Heyes had been wrestling with his delirium, taking the Kid on the journeys with him as he muttered feverishly in his dreams. Curry was drained from worry, frightened deep down that this time their luck had finally run out on them.

Doctor Munroe was seated beside the bed, reading in the dim light. Heyes was lying totally still beneath the covers, and his face was terribly pale.

"Well?" the Kid asked dully.

"He hasn't moved for hours. Why don't you get some more rest? You keep this up and I'm going to have _two_ patients on my hands."

Curry sat down gingerly on the bed, and laid his hand on Heyes' burning forehead. Munroe laid a comforting hand on his arm. "I think you should prepare yourself for the possibility of his dying," he said softly. "I don't want to mislead you. I think he's lost far too much blood."

The Kid stared at Munroe numbly, and then looked back down at his cousin. "No," he whispered. "He is NOT going to die."

"It could happen any time now," the doctor said gently, and got wearily to his feet. "If you won't get some rest, I'll go boil some coffee."

Curry was hardly aware of his leaving the room. He stroked Heyes' hair soothingly and thought of all the years they'd scrambled through together. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to go it alone. Heyes moved uneasily in the bed, as if feeling the Kid's intense stare. His eyes slowly fluttered open and focused dimly on Curry. Heyes smiled faintly. Curry squeezed his right shoulder firmly, as if by doing so he could press his own strength into his partner.

"You're gonna be all right," Kid whispered to him. "Just hang in there."

Heyes shook his head briefly. "Liar," he said softly. His eyes closed again, and Kid thought he'd fallen back asleep. But they opened again, languidly, as if returning unwillingly to consciousness. "I feel…strange, Jed," Heyes continued with effort. Curry knew how much Heyes hurt when he spoke his childhood name. "I've been….been on a long trip. With you." He took a shaky breath, and Kid saw Heyes' struggle against the cloth binding his hand to the bed board before giving up and sinking deeper into the mattress. "It's not…so bad, Jed."

"What ain't?" Curry was unaware that Dr. Munroe had reentered the room and was standing in the doorway listening to them. Munroe could sense death in the room; as a doctor he'd become so familiar with its presence it was like a texture he could reach out and touch.

"Dyin'," Heyes murmured.

"You ain't gonna die, Han!" the Kid said, suddenly angry, using his own boyhood name for his friend. "Damn you! Don't you quit on me!"

Heyes looked startled, and smiled in amusement. "Don't have…." He seemed to run out of strength, and closed his eyes again. "Don't have the choice."

Kid Curry knew suddenly that he had to pierce through Heyes' calm, get deep down inside of him and kick him back into the fight. "Damn it, Heyes! It is TOO your choice! You gotta fight it."

Heyes opened his eyes again and focused with effort on the Kid's face. The light in the room seemed eerie to him, all black except for the glow of the oil lamp casting flickering patterns against the wall and the Kid's intense face. Black and white, hot and cold, life and death. Heyes felt suddenly like he was balancing on one of those tightropes he'd seen once when the circus came to Willow Glen. A few steps ahead were the platform and safety; if he were careless he'd slip off the rope and into the blackness that was pulling so insistently at him. Heyes shuddered, glad that the Kid's hand was for the moment, at least, anchoring him steady. "It's…hard," he murmured.

The Kid felt tears sting his eyes, and let them run unashamed down his eyes. "I know it's hard. But I am helpin' you fight it. Let me be your strength. You gotta help me Han. Like you've always done, ever since we were kids."

Doctor Munroe suddenly held his breath. Something new was in the air, the texture seemed to be shifting, lightening, changing. He felt that if he moved, even breathed, he could shatter the delicate balance.

"It's…hard," Heyes murmured again. The blackness was spinning crazily again, trying to take him with it. He struggled to lift his foot and move one step down the wire. He listened to the Kid's voice, clinging to it for steadiness.

Kid watched the movement under the blanket. "I won't make it without you," he said softly. "It'll be too easy to go back to the way it was. You're the only one who's ever been able to keep me from making a fool of myself. You let me break your arm once to stop me from getting myself killed. Who'll stop me now if you quit on me?"

Heyes moved sluggishly beneath the covers, and suddenly it seemed as though his feet could move again, and he took a cautious step down the tightrope. The platform seemed a lot closer now.

Curry whispered encouragement in his ear. "You're too tough to die, Heyes. That's what you always tell me. So prove it!"

Heyes lifted his foot again. One step, two maybe, and the spinning blackness could go to Hell. Heyes lips pulled into a smile as he struggled to take another step. Curry was waiting at the platform for him, his hand reaching out.

"We need each other, Han. We're part of each other. Damn it, I love you. If we're gonna make it in this crazy world, we're gonna have to do it side by side."

Heyes lunged one more step forward and grinned as he reached the platform at the rope's end. When he spoke, his voice was stronger. "I love you too, cousin. Now…stop crying, will ya? I gotta…sleep".

Doctor Munroe hurried to the bed and put a stethoscope to Heyes' heart. Slowly a smile edged across the face, and as he put his hand against Heyes' forehead, the smile widened. "His heart is much stronger. And the fever is down."

Kid's shoulders sagged in relief, and he patted Heyes' shoulder as if to reassure himself that his cousin was still there.

"I heard in medical school that what you just did was possible. But I never believed it until tonight. Your partner was dead, really. And you pulled him back."

"No," the Kid whispered. "I didn't do anything. We did it together."

When Dr. Munroe entered the room the next morning, he found Hannibal Heyes awake, very weak, and more than slightly confused as to his whereabouts. "Well," Munroe greeted, and put down the cup of coffee he was carrying. "Finally awake."

"Finally?" Heyes asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"You've been here three days. Delirious, most of them. Thought I don't suppose you remember much of that."

"Not much," Heyes admitted. The mattress muffled his words. "Some things. You're the doctor. I remember that."

"Good," Munroe said brusquely, and pulled his stethoscope out of his pocket. "Dr. Stephen Munroe." He sat down next to Heyes, pulled back the blanket, and examined the bandages around his chest and shoulder.

"Why's my hand tied?"" asked Heyes.

Munroe listened a moment to his heart, then undid the binding with a smile. "I guess you won't need it anymore. We had to stop you from thrashing about and opening your wounds. "Now, don't move yet." Munroe carefully cut the bandage off. "Healing nicely," he commented. "It's a miracle, really, that no infection set in." He could see Heyes' face muscles tighten in pain as he began to wrap a fresh cloth around him, and he patted his shoulder comfortingly. "I know it hurts. I just don't have anything to give you to ease the pain." Heyes nodded that he understood. When Munroe finished, he turned Heyes carefully onto his back, and wiped off his face with a wet cloth smelling slightly of alcohol. "Can you manage lying on your back?" Heyes nodded again and opened his eyes. Munroe could read the questions in them.

"It was touch and go for awhile. The bullet went clean through you, and by the grace of God didn't nick any of your organs. Just some muscles torn, and far too much blood lost. It will probably take you awhile, but you'll make a full recovery. Thank God your cousin used sensible precautions with you, or you wouldn't be alive today."

Heyes eyebrows flew up in surprise. "My….cousin?"

Munroe raised a cup of water to his mouth, and Heyes drank gratefully. When he'd finished Munroe folded Heyes left arm over his chest and wrapped another cloth around him to keep it immobile.

"I can't have you moving around and opening the wounds," he said. "I know it's restricting." He sat back in his chair. "I also know you have a lot of questions. First, I know who you are. " Heyes' eyes narrowed. "Mr. Curry told me your true identities when he brought you here. As I told him then, I am a doctor, Mr. Heyes. The health…not the identity….of my patient is my only concern."

Heyes smiled tightly. "Thank you." He took a cautious breath, pleased that it didn't unleash a wave of pain. "How did the Kid ever find you?"

"He traced me to my fishing hole," Munroe said with a smile. "Your partner is quite a tracker. Let's hope the posse looking for both of us isn't so skilled."

"Where is he?"

"Fishing." At Heyes look of astonishment, Munroe chuckled. "There's a pond out front. We need to eat. For now, _you_ need to rest."

When Curry peeked into the room later in the morning and saw Heyes, he had to fight down an impulse to run over and pound him joyfully on the back. The doctor had given him a shave, and he was propped up slightly against the pillow looking very pale, but his eyes were bright, sparkling now as they greeted the Kid.

"How was the fishin'?" Heyes asked with a smile.

"Caught me a few." Kid came over and sat down carefully on the bed. "Boy, you are a sight for sore eyes. I told you we'd make it okay."

"But it was close."

"Yeah, real close." The two exchanged a look of understanding. No more words were necessary.

The door opened and Dr. Munroe stepped in. "You're not supposed to be talking," he admonished Heyes, and sat down on the chair. "What say we clear up the air? Such as why you're after me, and what I'm really supposed to have done."

The Kid explained about Ned's death, and Jenny's suspicion that Munroe killed him for his father's money. Munroe shook his head in disbelief when he finished. "You know, this whole thing is so preposterous I'd laugh. Except it's not funny at all."

"No," the Kid said seriously. "Jake Thurlow would just as soon see you dead, with no questions asked. He's absolutely convinced you killed his son."

"Is that what you think?"

Curry shrugged. "I did at first. Now I don't think so. Mr. Thurlow was paying me a hundred a day to track you down. We needed the money, so I took the job."

"You came very close last week, you know. I saw you searching the cabin."

Kid smiled. "I sensed you were around. How'd you keep so hid?"

"Kept everything under the trap door. Stayed clear of the cabin during the day. Had lots of time for walks, fishing, trying to figure a way to get myself out of this mess. I haven't come up with anything so far."

"What _did_ happen?" Heyes asked softly.

Munroe sighed. "Ned was improving. He'd come down with some kind of food poisoning. At least that was my diagnosis. Some new drugs I was familiar with from medical school were pulling him out of it. The night Ned died I'd examined him thoroughly. He seemed much better. I told Miss Dugan that it looked like he'd make it to the altar after all, and, since the crisis was over, I went back to my room at the boarding house to get some sleep. Early the next morning I was awakened by some noise out on the street, and heard someone shouting that Ned was dead and that I'd murdered him. I panicked. I packed up my things and ran. I knew it would be foolhardy to return to Oak Springs, and then I remembered this place. I figured to stay here a few days until tempers cooled, and then return. Now, with what you say about money being stolen, I don't know what I'm going to do." His eyes were bleak.

"You didn't know anything about the money?" Curry asked, but it was more of a statement.

Munroe shook his head. "Absolutely not. That would have been a bit outlandish, don't you think? I have a good practice here now, growing each week. I spent five years studying to be a doctor, and I'm a damn good one if I have to say so myself. Why would I throw all that away for the contents of some safe, which, by the way, I would have no idea how to open."?

"They're saying about ten thousand dollars were taken," Curry said. "Not exactly small change."

"We both believe you, " Heyes interjected. "It's always good form to believe the man that saves your life."

Munroe smiled gratefully at him, and ran his fingers shakily through his hair. "But that still doesn't get me out of this mess."

Curry was frowning. "If you didn't do it, who does that leave?" The answer hung heavily in the air, and Curry looked searchingly at Heyes' sympathetic eyes. "It leaves Jenny, doesn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Kid. I know you liked her."

The Kid was still confused. "That solves one puzzle, I guess. Though I don't exactly know why she'd kill the man she was gonna marry. But what's the connection between Thurlow's death and that man who showed up at the dance and shot you. If there _is_ a connection."

"There is one," Heyes answered. "Except I didn't figure it out until it was too late." He explained about seeing Jenny and Henry at the railroad station. "Looks like Jenny wanted to keep us around so her brother could get the revenge he wanted."

"Yeah," the Kid said bitterly. "And they could collect the reward money."

"Nice lady," Munroe sighed. "What a mess."

"Heyes," the Kid said heavily, "when you're better, we got a job to do in Denton. We can't let her get away with this. But how are we gonna prove she took the money? And what if she's left town? And how do we even get _back_ into town without being arrested?"

It was hurting Heyes to talk. "She'll still be there, Kid. I'll bet on it. She wants the reward money real bad, and she'll figure on our coming back to get even with Henry. And we'll come back, all right. But not for the purpose she expects."

Monroe laid a probing hand on Heyes' forehead. "Rest," he said in his doctor's tone. "You've got a ways to go before you'll be strong enough to make that trip back to town."

Curry and the Doctor were enjoying the roasted trout when they heard the sound of horse's hooves. Curry was immediately alert, grabbing his gun and hurrying to the window. "One man," he told Munroe.

Munroe joined him and peered outside. "I forgot he was coming." At Curry's look of surprise, he quickly explained. "That's Tom Markley. He's a farmer, lives not far from here. I delivered his baby last month. It was he who told me about this place. I detoured over to his spread on the way here, to let him know what was going on, in case he noticed anything. He's been helping me with food and such."

"And he won't tell the sheriff?" Curry asked suspiciously.

"Well, he owes me a lot, "Munroe said. "His wife was in breach. She would have died. But I think you might keep hid."

Curry nodded and went back to the now sleeping Heyes. He heard a murmur of voices, and then the sound of receding hooves.

"We have a treat," Munroe said when Curry rejoined him. "Fresh chicken. Some bread. Apples. I told Tom I have a sick man here and could use more help. That I'd repay him later. I hope you don't mind, but I asked him to go into town and pick up some clothes for you two. Heyes doesn't have a shirt, and yours is all bloodied up."

Curry smiled. "Thanks. How long before Heyes will be able to travel, you think?"

Munroe set the supplies on the table and looked thoughtful. "I might take as long as two weeks. He's going to be very weak. Now," he said with sudden energy, "let's get this chicken on the boil so we can make some broth for your cousin."

If it weren't for the worry about the posse finding them, the next few weeks would have been almost restful. At first Heyes couldn't even sit up by himself without enduring breath-robbing pain. But gradually he was able to stand, and with Curry's help walk into the main cabin to eat and sit by the fire. The days were shortening and getting colder. Heyes was restless and wanted to settle things in Denton, but until he could get around without pain or dizziness, he knew he had to bide his time.

It was nearly three weeks before Munroe said Heyes was up to the return to Denton. Markley loaned them a wagon, which they loaded Heyes onto, wrapping him up in blankets to ward off the biting wind.

"We're gonna make some posse awfully rich if they catch up with us," Munroe said wryly as they started out.

"I think we're pretty safe right now," the Kid said as he whipped the horses forward. "From past experience, we've learned posses rarely stay together more than a few days. Pay's not good enough to make up for the long hours in the saddle, and they have other work to take care of."

They kept off the main road as they came down from the foothills and met no one along the way. Heyes lay back and enjoyed being outside again, watching the play of light through the gathering storm clouds, smelling in enjoyment the clean, moisture-heavy air. For a while there he'd wondered if he'd ever be feeling like this again, and shivered as he remembered the darker clouds from his dreams. As the hours passed the sky grew blacker, and by the time they reached the outskirts of Denton night was falling and it was starting to rain.

"Let's pull over until the sun goes all the way down," Kid suggested, and urged the horses into a thickly forested ravine. "Wouldn't do for anybody to spot us coming into town."

Rain was beginning to ooze down in heavy drops as they slowly entered town several hours later. The streets were deserted; people could see the storm was going to be a nasty one, and were keeping well clear of it. Curry led the horses the back way to Clara Hodge's house. They were gambling she'd let them in for the night, since they had nowhere else to turn.

Clara opened the back door at Curry's knock, a lantern in her hand and a worried look on her face. She blinked in surprise when she saw who it was. "Well," she greeted with a faint smile. "It's been a long time since I had any gentleman callers at this time of night."

"Will you help us?" Kid asked. "We don't know where else we can go."

She peered beyond him into the darkness and saw the horses and wagon. "I've got Heyes with me," Curry continued. "And Doctor Munroe."

Clara hurried over to the buckboard, obvlious to the rain. "How is Hannibal?" she asked the Kid as he followed her. "My goodness, I never thought I'd see him alive again." She shone the lantern on the wagon, and Heyes grinned up at her.

"I'm alive and almost kicking," he greeted. "Hey, don't look so worried." He pushed himself gingerly to a more upright position.

Clara looked around them at the darkened houses, and beckoned them inside. "You'd best hurry," she said softly.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Munroe said, tipping his hat to her as he scrambled to the ground. "You more than live up to your reputation." He looped his arm around Heyes to support him, and they followed Clara slowly into the house.

"Into the bedroom," Clara directed, leading them up a flight of stairs. She hurried over to light a lamp, which revealed a small room with flowered wallpaper, a hand-woven rug, and a comfortable bed with a bright quilt over it. "You lie down," she ordered Heyes. "You look like you're about to drop."

Heyes smiled his thanks as he eased down on the bed. He was crushingly tired from the long journey, and his wounds were hurting again. Munroe pulled off his boots, unbuttoned his jacket and opened his shirt to check on the bandages. When he was satisfied, he efficiently pulled up the quilt and tucked it around his patient. Clara sat down on the bed beside him and stroked her fingers gently through his hair.

"I was sure they'd killed you," she said softly, and her eyes were wet. "It seemed such a waste."

"You're an angel," Heyes whispered, fighting to stay awake. Then he heard steps coming up the stairs, and glanced over as Kid Curry walked into the room.

"I put the buckboard in your shed," he told Clara. I just hope nobody thinks too much of the horses I tied up town the alley aways." He peered anxiously at Heyes. "You doin' all right?"

"Yeah," Heyes said sleepily. He fought for a few more seconds to keep his eyes open, but then gave in to the softness of the bed and the welcome warmth of the quilt. He was asleep instantly. Clara folded his jacket over a chair and turned to her new boarders.

"I assume you're both hungry. And if I say so myself, my beef stew is as good as my lemonade."

Clara was pouring Heyes a second cup of coffee when the Kid and Munroe joined them in the kitchen the next morning. Thanks to Clara they had their saddle rolls and belongs back, as well as their guns.

"I just walked into your room and took them," she was explaining to Heyes as the other men sat down at the table. "The hotel clerk was most lax."

"We certainly appreciate that, Ma'am," Curry said and hungrily eyed the eggs on the serving plate.

Heyes stood up and walked over to the kitchen window. "I got a plan," he announced without fanfare. He pulled the curtain carefully to the side, revealing Denton's main street. "What do you see out there?"

Kid shrugged. "Some more houses. The Post office. The Church." He chewed contentedly on a piece of bacon.

"Ah ha!" Heyes crowed. "But which _house_?" At Curry's look of confusion, Heyes sighed. "By selecting a very careful angle, from this window we have a clear view of not only the front, but also the side door of the boarding house where, Clara informs me, our friend Jenny Dugan has found a home since the unfortunate demise of her husband-to-be."

"So?" Both Kid and Munroe looked at him blankly.

"So, we'll be able to tell when that quick-fingered brother of hers has left the building and she's alone. So I can put Plan A into action."

"Why are these still in town, anyway?" mused Munroe. "If she has taken the money as you suspect, I would have thought they'd be long gone by now."

"Oh, they can't leave town," Clara interjected. Her houseguests looked at her questioningly. "They need to wait for the circuit judge to clear up the…shooting." She looked sympathetically at Heyes.

Heyes scowled. "He'd be locked up except for that 'wanted dead of alive' mention on the wanted poster."

"But he still needs a ruling from the circuit court," Clara added. "The judge isn't expected for a few days yet."

"So that gives us time for Plan A, "Curry said, putting down his fork with satisfaction. "What is it doesn't work. You got a Plan B?"

Heyes grinned. "Nope. So Kid, we go with 'A' all the way."

They sprang into action shortly after noon, when they saw Dugan step out onto the front porch of the boarding house, stretch lazily, then head off with a determined step in the direction of the saloon. Curry pulled his hat down low over his face and pulled his jacket collar up high, and walked boldly out onto the street and towards the porch. Heyes and Munroe slipped into the back alley and hurried up the side street to the boarding house's back door. As the expected, it was unlocked. They let themselves into the hallway, flattened against a wall behind a large armoire, and waited until Kid could lure Jenny into the front parlor. They didn't have long to wait.

Mrs. Lacey, the spinster who ran the house, answered the Kid's knocking and let him into the entryway. Luck held. She was apparently one of the few townspeople who hadn't attended the dance, and didn't recognize the Kid when he asked her politely to see Miss Dugan. Mrs. Lacey nodded and went up the stairs. After a few moments they heard a rustling of silk, and Jenny came hurrying down the stairs. Heyes wished he could see her face, but her back was to him. He was certain she would be registering the proper amount of excitement, worry and sensuousness needed to keep the Kid at her side until Henry returned. Heyes hoped they'd be well on their way out of town before that occurred.

Heyes saw the Kid take off his hat and smile very welcomingly at Jenny, and then motioned her toward the parlor. Jenny led the way into the adjacent room; Mrs. Lacey retired to the kitchen area, giving Heyes and Munroe the chance to tiptoe up the stairs.

"My goodness," Jenny was saying to Kid after she'd closed the door behind them to insure privacy. "I never thought you'd be so bold as to come back here in broad daylight."

_But aren't you glad I did,_ Kid thought to himself, but kept a warm smile on his face. "Well, I sort of felt an apology was in order. "

Jenny was puzzled. "Apology? Whatever for?"

"At the dance. You were so kind to offer your help. And I'm afraid I wasn't very hospitable."

Jenny fluttered her eyelashes.

"It was all happening too fast," the Kid continued, hoping he'd be able to stretch this thing out long enough for Heyes to do his work before he broke down and tried to throttle her.

"That's certainly understandable. It was terrible. And how is your friend? Is he all right?"

Curry hung his head. "I'm afraid he didn't make it," he said heavily. "He died on the way out of town." _There_! he thought. _Now you don't have to worry about him having told me about seeing you and your damn brother at the train station._

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. Something flickered behind her eyes, and Curry wondered cynically if she was realizing she'd just lost $10,000 in reward money.

Upstairs, Heyes opened Jenny's door effortless with a penknife. Once inside the room, he and Munroe began to systematically go through Jenny's things; lifting up the mattress, probing the pillows and folded quilts, carefully sorting through her trunk of clothes and the large cupboard at the far end of the room. Nothing. For a moment Heyes stood silently and scanned the room, trying to figure out where HE would have put thousands of dollars and stock certificates if he were Jenny. His eyes rested on the small stand holding the bedpan. One eyebrow shot up questioningly, and he hurried over to it. Sure enough, in the small drawer holding towels was a smallish metal box. Heyes removed it and set it carefully on the bed stand. It was sturdy, and locked by a combination device. _Child's play!_ he grinned to himself.

"It's a good thing my right arm wasn't hurt," he whispered to Munroe as he put his ear next to the dial and closed his eyes in concentration. "That's my safe-opening arm."

Munroe grinned nervously at him from where he was keeping an eye on the door.

In the parlor, Jenny had taken the Kid's hand gently in hers. "What are your plans now?"

"Well, I don't know," he sighed. "First in my head was to come back here and see you. Pick up my gear, if I could manage it." He patted her hand, making sure his right hand was unhindered and free to go for his gun, if need be.

"I'm glad you did," she whispered. "It can get awfully lonely for a woman alone. She needs a man to watch out for her, protect her, keep her safe."

"That's funny," said Hannibal Heyes sarcastically from the doorway, and Jenny whirled around in shock. "I thought the only _safe_ you were interested in was the one in Jake Thurlow's study."

Jenny's mouth opened slightly, and then shut resolutely. She got swiftly to her feet and faced all three of them, her face a shade paler, but both hands clenched in anger. "You lied to me!" she accused the Kid. "You arrogant, deceitful…"

"Seems to me there's been a lot of lying going on all around here lately," Curry said quietly.

Heyes casually tossed the stack of bills he was holding onto the sideboard. Jenny eyed them in alarm, then her nostrils flared and she looked from Heyes to Curry to Munroe with growing self-control.

"What is this supposed to mean?" she asked coldly. "Another game of deception?"

"If you look closely, I'm certain you'll recognize them," Heyes said smoothly, "since I just now took them from your safe." Jenny's lips tightened. "Quite a bonus, I'd say," Heyes continued, "for getting rid of one fiancé."

"This is the money the Doctor stole," Jenny said. "I don't know why you're trying to blame ME for something he did. And besides, what are you planning to do with it? Take it to the sheriff? Explain how terribly clever you are while he locks you away for twenty years?"

"No," Heyes said evenly. "Dr. Munroe will do the explaining for us. About how Ned was recovering until he took an _unexpected_ turn for the worse. He has the medicine to prove it."

Jenny clutched her skirt with white knuckles.

"You should have left town while you were still ahead."

"You should have, too," cut in a voice suddenly from the hallway, and they whirled in surprise to see Henry Dugan standing there, brandishing a revolver in his right hand. Jenny visibly relaxed, and drew in a shaky breath. "You all right, Jenny?" Dugan asked When Jenny nodded, he motioned to Heyes and Curry with his gun. "Take their weapons," he said to her. "I don't want any more surprises."

Curry and Heyes watched silently while Jenny handed over their guns to her brother, wondering if they were about to see a repeat of Henry's performance at the dance. Heyes' shoulder began to ache in anticipation.

"I don't mean to interrupt your plans," Munroe suddenly broke in, "but this might be the only time I have to ask, and I think you owe me that much. Do you mind telling me why? Why kill the man who could have made you very rich? "

Jenny's eyebrows arched in surprise. "Why, Doctor, you must not have been listening to Ned's delirium. You should have guessed that all was not as it could have been between us. Ned was calling off the wedding. I was about to lose everything. So I dropped a little poison into his food, fully expecting Ned's father would be generous to the grieving fiancée of his dead son. You were an unexpected problem. So I decided to take the money and blame you for it. I gambled on Jake Thurlow's temper that you would never live long enough to tell your side of the story. I convinced Jake to hire Kid Curry. I thought he'd have a better chance than the inept posse to find you, and I was right." She glanced at the Kid, who returned her look with a stony expression. "What I did _not_ count on was your failure to live up to your reputation. Nor Henry's rash decision to take care of Heyes."

"And now?" asked Heyes.

Jenny glared at him, then clutched anxiously onto Henry's arm. "Let's get on with this," she urged. "We can't afford another mistake."

Henry nodded, his eyes never leaving Heyes. "The way I see it now," Henry said coldly, "is that Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes came back in town to get back at me. But I was luckier this time. As for the doctor…." He shrugged. "He unfortunately got caught in the crossfire."

Heyes tensed as Dugan pointed his gun at him. He couldn't believe the nightmare was about to repeat itself. Once again, he had no weapon. And once again, the Kid was helpless to come to his aid.

"So what kind of revenge is this going to be?" asked Curry with all the sarcasm he could muster. Dugan's finger hesitated on the trigger. "You said you want revenge, " Kid continued hastily, grasping at any straw he could find to get Heyes and himself out of this mess. "So why not get your revenge in a blaze of glory? Why not face me down, man to man? What kind of revenge is it to shoot Heyes and Curry down like fish in a barrel?"

Dugan looked thoughtful.

"Don't be stupid, Henry," Jenny hissed. "What chance do you think you have going up against Kid Curry? Don't listen to him."

Dugan gently removed her hand from his arm. "But he's right," he said, and Heyes and Curry looked at each other with a mixture of hope and incredulity that Dugan would fall for the ploy. "Just shooting them won't make up for the past two years of scrabbling in the dirt to make a living. There could be money in being the man who drew down Hannibal Heyes. Because it's YOU I really want," he said, turning back to Heyes. "You were the bright guy with all the ideas about how to rob decent working men of all they own."

Heyes opened his mouth to interject something, but decided Dugan was beyond listening to a rehash of ancient history.

"Toss him his gun," Dugan ordered his sister. The gun landed at Heyes' feet with a thump. "Put the gun in your holster, and no funny moves. Jenny, you keep a gun on Curry until this is finished. When Heyes is down, you can shoot him if you want. Or I will."

"Is what happened years ago really worth you dying over? " Heyes asked as he bent over with a wince to pick up the weapon.

"You got cold feet, Heyes? You feel kind of vulnerable, now that the Kid can't do your dirty work for you? Come to think of it, I don't believe I've ever heard tell of you in a gunfight. You do know how to draw your gun, don't you Heyes?"

Heyes smiled tightly and eased his injured arm out of the sling, so it wouldn't impede his draw. He handed the cloth over Munroe, and winced as he stretched his arm stiffly and brought it down to his side. .

"How do you know I'm not as fast as my partner? Maybe I've had a very good teacher."

Curry tried to look confident, but he wasn't convinced at all the Heyes was going to come through this all right. Heyes was fast, faster than most, but he hadn't seen him fast-draw a gun in years. Despite feeling frightened deep down over what was about to happen, a part of him was actually curious to see Heyes in action. Curry was feeling more than a little out of place. Usually Heyes and his roles were reversed; it was Heyes who looked on while HE had to stand someone down. Kid decided he much preferred the latter, when he was the one in control of the situation. He never had any doubts about what his own shooting hand would do, but Heyes' ability was another question, even without the added liability of his injury. Curry decided they'd need a miracle to pull out of this one.

And a miracle is just what they got. Sheriff Riverton burst through the doorway with a gun in each hand. Dugan whirled around and shifted his aim from Heyes to the sheriff. Riverton fired first, and Dugan was thrown back against the wall. The room filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder as Dugan crumpled awkwardly to the floor. Jenny shrieked and dropped the gun she was holding. It clattered noisily against the sideboard as she ran over to kneel beside her brother. For a strange moment the room was completely still while the sheriff kept a wary eye on Dugan's inert body, looking to make sure he wouldn't go for his gun again. Heyes and Curry looked apprehensively at each other and wondered if they should try to make a break for it while Heyes still had a gun in his hand and they still had a chance.

Then a loud voice boomed from the hall, and Jake Thurlow stormed into the parlor. "Where is she?" he thundered, and his eyes rested on Jenny. He charged across the carpet like a tornado about to touch ground, and would have struck Jenny across the face if Munroe hadn't stepped between them.

"Easy, Sir," he said gently. "Enough killing has gone on. It's finally over."

Thurlow glared at Munroe, then at Jenny. Slowly the fire within him died down, and he unclenched his hands. His look at Munroe turned to one of apology. "I made a horse's ass out of myself these past few weeks. I know just saying 'I'm sorry' can't make up for all the grief I've caused you."

"You're a father who lost his son," Munroe said compassionately.

Thurlow nodded gratefully. "If there's one thing I've learned from all this," he added with another glare at Jenny, "is that too much temper can be a dangerous thing. Mrs. Hodges was telling me…." He looked around the room searchingly. "Now, where is that woman?" Heyes and Curry looked baffled. "Clara!" Thurlow called out. "You can come in now. No bullets are flying." Thurlow saw the looks of confusion in the faces of the other men in the room. "We heard everything from the hallway, and then…"

He was interrupted when Clara came into the room, a worried look on her face. When she saw Heyes and Curry apparently unharmed, her face broke into a relieved smile.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Curry finally demanded. "Mr. Thurlow, how did you happen to be here? And how did the sheriff get into the picture?"

"Why, it's all quite simple," Clara replied, before the others could speak. "When I saw Mr. Thurlow heading across the street to the boarding house…"

"I was coming over to pay a visit to my dear bereaved Jenny," Thurlow interrupted acidly.

"Well, " Clara continued, "when I saw him, I knew he would burst right in and disrupt your plans. I intercepted him and informed him of what was taking place. After we put our heads together, we decided the practical thin was to send for the sheriff. When Mr. Riverton arrived we waited in the hallway and heard you talking. We listened in, which wasn't very polite, I know, but it seemed the practical thing to do. And the rest, you know!" Clara's smile took in the whole room, but rested, Heyes thought in bemusement, with an extra sparkle on Thurlow.

"Doctor," added Thurlow, "you're doubtless relieved that it's now perfectly clear to all of us who is responsible for my son's death, as well as robbing my safe. Sheriff, I don't think things would have worked out this satisfactorily if it hadn't been for Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones here."

The two ex-outlaws eyed each other warily as the sheriff faced them with a very grim look. "Well, that's right, Jake," Riverton said. "But this still leaves me with a big problem on my hands. What to do with these two. I've taken an oath to uphold the law."

"What could you possibly want with Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones?" asked Clara quietly.

"Ma'am," Riverton said politely, "you know as well as I do who these two really are."

"The only proof we have is the word of this young woman and her brother," Clara replied hotly. "Joshua was never given a chance to defend himself at the dance when all those accusations were made, and from what we've learned about this young woman, her word is none too reliable."

"Mr. 'Smith' here did keep calling his friend 'Kid' at the dance," the sheriff said flatly. "Can you explain that for me?"

"A nickname, of course," Clara retorted. "Will you condemn a man for his nickname?"

"He called out "Heyes"."

"I think what he said was "hey", Clara said.

The sheriff never took his gaze off the two partners. "Is that right, now," he said dryly.

Heyes sighed and started to unleash his silver tongue, but was interrupted by Thurlow. "Sheriff, you can see that Smith here is still armed. If he were indeed Hannibal Heyes, don't you think by now he would have drawn his weapon and gotten out of here? Yet he's made no move to do so."

Riverton scratched his chin, and Heyes and Curry, for their part, tried to look as guiltless as possible.

"Besides which," Thurlow went on, "I don't think Heyes and Curry would have come back to Denton, knowing you were looking for them. But Smith and Jones…why it's possible they would have wished to help clear the name of the doctor who tended to them. If it weren't for their efforts we never would have found who was truly responsible for my son's death, and an innocent man would have been blamed. I think we owe these two a debt of gratitude, Sheriff. Don't you?" Heyes wasn't sure if Thurlow was bluffing or not, but he sure liked the way the words came out. He looked expectantly at Riverton and mentally crossed his fingers.

"What you said is dead right," Riverton finally said. "And for that, I think I'll overlook the confusion over these two's identities, and their uncanny similarity to the wanted poster descriptions of Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. I think we have as much information as we need to bring this young woman to trial."

"Good decision," Heyes said in relief.

"Thank you, Sheriff," put in curry, their words falling on top of each other.

The sheriff nodded curtly, then pulled Jenny up from her brother's lifeless body and led her from the room. She looked back for a moment at Curry, her face a mask of grief, but she said nothing. Clara came over to Heyes and pecked him gently on the cheek.

"I knew it would turn out all right," she said softly, "or I certainly wouldn't have brought in the sheriff."

Heyes returned the kiss, and nodded surreptitiously in Thurlow's direction. "Looks like you'll be having a gentleman caller," he whispered.

Clara blushed, and laughed lightly. "And at my age! Can you imagine? She hugged Heyes carefully, and then walked over and took the arm Jake Thurlow extended to her. "You spoke of lunch," she said sweetly, and Thurlow beamed down at her.

"Quite right. But first…" He reached into his coat pocket and removed several bills. "Doctor," he said, and gave Munroe an ample number of them, "you never collected payment from me in your hurry to leave town."

Munroe grinned, and accepted the money with a slight bow. "Thank you, Sir. I assure you, your money will be put to good use at my clinic."

Thurlow turned to Curry. "And you, young fellow. I promised you a hundred a day to find our hapless doctor here, and a hundred a day you'll receive. I am a man of my word."

Curry took the bills with a broad smile. "Thank you, Sir."

"Oh dear," Clara said to Heyes. "I just realized I never paid you for all the work you did for me."

Heyes smiled. "Don't worry about it, Clara. Thanks to Mr. Thurlow here, we'll make out just fine."

"Nonsense," Thurlow said. "If you worked, you deserve remuneration. How much do you owe him, Clara?"

"Ten dollars," she replied, somewhat startled by his offer.

Thurlow peeled off the bill from the stack in his wallet, and handed it over to Heyes with flourish. Heyes folded the money carefully into his pocket.

"Honest wages," he said with a glare at the Kid, who was fighting down a laugh. Heyes kissed Clara again on the cheek. "Good bye," he said to her. "You've been an angel."

"And you know what? I have asked young Joe to help me in the mercantile. So some good will out of all this."

"That's wonderful!" Heyes beamed.

Clara patted his hand with misty eyes, then turned and left on Thurlow's arm.

An hour later, Heyes and Curry had loaded their belongings onto their horses and were preparing to leave Denton. Munroe stepped over to them with an outstretched hand. "I'm off as well. I've probably got patients lined up down the street, not to mention a nurse frantically combing the countryside for my remains."

Munroe refastened the sling around Heyes' arm, and surveyed him with a certain amount of satisfaction. "You'll be a patient to remember," he said, "so let me play doctor long enough to tell you to take it very easy for the next couple of weeks. You don't want to open those wounds again, and you will unless you let your partner here do the heavy things. Understood?"

"You can be sure of that, Doc," Heyes said with a grin, and Curry groaned in anticipation of all the jobs he knew Heyes would find for him. Then Heyes grew more serious. "'Thank you' doesn't cover it, I guess."

"I did what I knew how to, medically, " Munroe said solemnly. "I believe you and your cousin did the rest."

Heyes glanced at the Kid and they exchanged smiles, and Heyes remembered flashes of the strange journey they'd embarked on together in the delirium of his fever and pain.

"I'm glad to have met both of you, and if you ever need a doctor again….which I hope you don't…you know where you'll find me." He nodded and walked away.

Heyes turned to Curry with a grin. "NOW can we leave Denton?"

"Just one question, Heyes," Kid asked as they mounted their horses.

"What's that?"

"Back there in the parlor, would you really have drawn on Dugan?"

Heyes grinned wickedly. "What's wrong? Don't you think I could have beaten him? Or were you worried I might be a whole lot faster than you think I am?"

Curry smiled. "One thing I HAVE seen, Heyes, is your attempts at fast-drawing a gun."

"But not for a long time, you gotta admit," Heyes kidded. "How do you know I ain't been practicing early in the morning before you roll out of bed?"

"You gotta admit yourself, Heyes, that it was a pretty peculiar switch for us."

Heyes sobered. "Yeah, that it was. And you know what, Kid? I'm glad we never had the chance to learn how I'd do. That's the kind of thing I only too gladly leave to your lightning hand. I only know one thing." He smiled at Kid's questioning look. "I want to get out of Denton."

Curry laughed again. "I know, I know! You got a BAD feeling about this place." He leaned over and patted Heyes' right arm companionably. "And from now on, Cousin, when you tell me you have a bad feeling about some place, we're gonna ride on through. At full gallop!"

Laughing, they did just that.


End file.
